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OF  NATURG 


SIR  JOHN  LUBBOCK 


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LIBRARY 

OF  ttfiE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

QIKT    OK 


Received    fUnr. 
Accessions  No. 


THE  BEAUTIES  OF  NATURE 


THE 

BEAUTIES  OF  NATURE 


AND    THE 


WONDERS    OF   THE  WORLD 
WE   LIVE    IN 


THE   RIGHT  HON. 

SIR   JOHN    LUBBOCK,   BART.,   M.P. 

F.R.S.,     D.C.L.,     LL.D. 


OF 

TJHIVEKSITT 


gorft 
MACMILLAN   AND    CO. 

AND    LONDON 

1892 

All  rights  reserved 


COPTRIGHT,   1892, 

BY  MACMILLAN   AND  CO 


TYPOGRAPHY  BY  J.  S.  GUSHING  &  Co.,  BOSTON,  U.S.A. 
PRESSWORK  BY  BERWICK  &  SMITH,  BOSTON,  U.S.A. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER   I 

PAGE 

INTRODUCTION        ........  1 

Beauty  and  Happiness     ......  3 

The  Love  of  Nature         ......  5 

Enjoyment  of  Scenery     ..,.,.  14 

Scenery  of  England                            .....  19 

Foreign  Scenery ,21 

The  Aurora 33 

The  Seasons  34 


CHAPTER   II 

ON  ANIMAL  LIFE  ........  39 

Love  of  Animals      .......  41 

Growth  and  Metamorphoses 43 

Rudimentary  Organs 45 

Modifications 48 

Colour .         .         .50 

Communities  of  Animals         .....  57 

Ants  58 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER   III 

PAGE 

ON  ANIMAL  LIFE  —  continued       .....  71 

Freedom  of  Animals        ......  73 

Sleep        .........  78 

Senses      .........  84 

Sense  of  Direction    .......  93 

Number  of  Species  .......  96 

Importance  of  the  Smaller  Animals        ...  97 

Size  of  Animals        .......  100 

Complexity  of  Animal  Structure     ....  101 

Length  of  Life         .......  102 

On  Individuality     .......  104 

Animal  Immortality        ......  112 


CHAPTER   IV 

ON  PLANT  LIFE     ........  115 

Structure  of  Flowers      ,  ......  128 

Insects  and  Flowers         ......  134 

Past  History  of  Flowers  ......  136 

Fruits  and  Seeds      .......  137 

Leaves      .........  138 

Aquatic  Plants         .......  144 

On  Hairs           ........  148 

Influence  of  Soil      .......  151 

On  Seedlings   ........  152 

Sleep  of  Plants         .......  152 

Behaviour  of  Leaves  in  Rain  .....  155 

Mimicry  .         .         .         .         .         .         .        .         .156 

Ants  and  Plants  156 


CONTENTS  vii 

PAGE 

Insectivorous  Plants 158 

Movements  of  Plants 159 

Imperfection  of  our  Knowledge       .         .         ,         .163 


CHAPTER   V 

WOODS  AND  FIELDS      .        .        .  •        •        .165 

Fairy  Land 172 

Tropical  Forests 179 

Structure  of  Trees 185 

Ages  of  Trees  .        . 188 

Meadows •     192 

Downs      .         .         •         •      •-•        •      -  •    -'••  •••••-   194 


CHAPTER  VI 

MOUNTAINS 201 

Alpine  Flowers 205 

Mountain  Scenery 206 

The  Afterglow 213 

The  Origin  of  Mountains         .....  214 

Glaciers    .....••••  227 

Swiss  Mountains 232 

Volcanoes 236 

Origin  of  Volcanoes 243 


CHAPTER   VII 

WATER 249 

Rivers  and  Witchcraft 251 


viii  CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Water  Plants  

.     252 

Water  Animals        

.     253 

Origin  of  Rivers       

.     255 

The  Course  of  Rivers      

.     256 

Deltas      

.     272 

CHAPTER  VIII 

RIVERS  AND  LAKES       

.     277 

On  the  Directions  of  Rivers    .... 

.     279 

The  Conflicts  and  Adventures  of  Rivers 

.     301 

On  Lakes         

.     312 

On  the  Configuration  of  Valleys 

.     323 

CHAPTER  IX 

THE  SEA        

.     335 

The  Sea  Coast          

.    337 

Sea  Life   

.     344 

The  Ocean  Depths  

.     351 

Coral  Islands    

.     358 

The  Southern  Skies          

.     365 

The  Poles         

.     367 

CHAPTER   X 

373 

The  Moon        

.     377 

The  Sun  

.     382 

The  Planets      .                                  ... 

387 

CONTENTS  ix 

PAGE 

Mercury 388 

Venus 390 

The  Earth 391 

Mars 392 

The  Minor  Planets 393 

Jupiter 394 

Saturn 395 

Uranus     .         .     - 396 

Neptune 397 

Origin  of  the  Planetary  System       ....  398 

Comets 401 

Shooting  Stars 406 

The  Stars 410 

Nebulse                                                                        ,  425 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PIG.  PAGE 

1.  Larva  of  Chcerocampa  porcellus 53 

2.  Bougainvillea  f ruticosa ;    natural  size.      (After  All- 

man)       107 

3.  Do.              do.          magnified     ....  108 

4.  Do.  do.          Medusa-form         .         .         .109 

5.  Medusa  aurita,  and  progressive  stages  of  development. 

(After  Steenstrup) 110 

6.  White  Dead-nettle 124 

7.  Do.                    125 

8.  Do.                    125 

9.  Salvia 127 

10.  Do 127 

11.  Do 127 

12.  Primrose 131 

13.  Do. 131 

14.  Arum 135 

15.  Twig  of  Beech 140 

16.  Arrangement  of  leaves  in  Acer  platanoides        .        .  142 

17.  Diagram  to    illustrate    the    formation  of   Mountain 

Chains 216 

18.  Section  across  the  Jura  from  Brenets  to  Neuchatel. 

(After  Jaccard) 219 

19.  Section  from  the  Spitzen  across  the   Brunnialp,  and 

the  Maderanerthal.    (After  Heim)         .         .         .  221 


xii  ILLUSTRATIONS 

FIG.  PAGE 

20.  Glacier  of  the  Blunilis  Alp.    (After  Reclus)       .        .  228 

21.  Cotopaxi.    (After  Judd) 237 

22.  Lava  Stream.    (After  Judd) 239 

23.  Stromboli,  viewed  from  the  north-west,  April  1874. 

(After  Judd) 242 

24.  Upper  Valley  of  St.  Gotthard 257 

25.  Section  of  a  river  valley.    The  dotted  line  shows  a 

slope  or  talus  of  debris 260 

26.  Valley  of  the  Rhone,  with  the  waterfall  of  Sallenches, 

showing  a  talus  of  debris        .....     261 

27.  Section  across  a  valley.    A,  present  river  valley  ;  B, 

old  river  terrace 262 

28.  Diagram  of  an  Alpine  valley,  showing  a  river  cone. 

Front  view 263 

29.  Diagram  of  an  Alpine  valley,  showing  a  river  cone. 

Lateral  view 265 

30.  Map  of  the  Valais  near  Sion 266 

31.  View  in  the  Rhone  Valley,  showing  a  lateral  cone      .     267 

32.  Do.                       showing   the   slope    of    a 
river  cone 268 

33.  Shore  of  the  Lake  of  Geneva,  near  Vevey  .        .         .    269 

34.  View  in  the  district  of  the  Broads,  Norfolk        .         .271 

35.  Delta  of  the  Po 273 

36.  Do.        Mississippi 274 

37.  Map  of  the  Lake  District 281 

38.  Section  of  the  Weald  of  Kent,     a,  «,  Upper  Creta- 

ceous strata,  chiefly  Chalk,  forming  the  North  and 
South  Downs;  6,  b,  Escarpment  of  Lower  Green- 
sand,  with  a  valley  between  it  and  the  Chalk ; 
c,  c,  Weald  Clay,  forming  plains  ;  fZ,  Hills  formed 
of  Hastings  Sand  and  Clay.  The  Chalk,  etc.,  once 
spread  across  the  country,  as  shown  in  the  dotted 
lines 283 

39.  Map  of  the  Weald  of  Kent 284 


ILLUSTRATIONS  xiii 

TIG.  PAGE 

40.  Sketch  Map  of  the  Swiss  Kivers 291 

41.  Diagram  in  illustration  of  mountain  structure    .        .  296 

42.  Sketch  Map  of  the  Aar  and  its  tributaries  .        .        .  299 

43.  River  system  round  Chur,  as  it  used  to  be  .        .        .  308 

44.  River  system  round  Chur,  as  it  is        .        .        .        . ,  309 

45.  River  system  of  the  Maloya 311 

46.  Final  slope  of  a  river 317 

47.  Do.  do.         with  a  lake        .        .         .        .318 

48.  Diagrammatic  section  of  a  valley  (exaggerated).  E  J?, 

rocky  basis  of  a  valley  ;  A  A,  sedimentary  strata  ; 

B,  ordinary  level  of  river  ;   (7,  flood  level        .         .     329 

49.  Whitsunday  Island.    (After  Darwin)  .        .        .         .359 

50.  A  group  of  Lunar  volcanoes ;  Maurolycus,  Barocius, 

etc.    (After  Judd) 380 

51.  Orbits  of  the  inner  Planets.    (After  Ball)   .        .        .388 

52.  Relative  distances  of  the  Planets  from  the  Sun.    (After 

Ball) 389 

53.  Saturn,  with  the  surrounding  series  of  rings.    (After 

Lockyer) 395 

54.  The  Parallactic  Ellipse.    (After  Ball)        .        .         .413 

55.  Displacement  of  the  hydrogen  line  in  the  spectrum  of 

Rigel.    (After  Clarke) 416 


PLATES 

BURNHAM  BEECHES    ......       Frontispiece 

WINDSOR  CASTLE.  (From  a  drawing  by 

J.  Finnemore)  ....  To  face  page  13 
AQUATIC  VEGETATION,  Rio.  (Published 

by  Spooner  and  Co.)  .  .  .  "  "145 

TROPICAL  FOREST,  WEST  INDIES.  (After 

Kingsley) ««  "179 

SUMMIT  OF  MONT  BLANC  .  "  "  203 


xiv  ILLUSTRATIONS 

THE  MER  DE  GLACE,  MONT  BLANC  .         .      To  face  page  229 
RYDAL  WATER.     (From  a  photograph  by 

Frith  and  Co.,  published  by  Spooner 

and  Co.) "247 

WlNDERMERE "  "         253 

VIEW  IN  THE  VALAIS  BELOW  ST.  MAURICE  "  "       264 

VIEW  UP  THE  VALAIS  FROM  THE  LAKE  or 

GENEVA    .......  "  "       268 

THE  LAND'S  END.  (From  a  photograph 
by  Frith  and  Co.,  published  by 
Spooner  and  Co.)  ....  "334 

VlEW     OF     THE     MOON     NEAR     THE     THIRD 

QUARTER.    (From  a  photograph  by 

Prof.  Draper) "371 


CHAPTER  I 

INTRODUCTION 


If  any  one  gave  you  a  few  acres,  you  would  say  that  you 
had  received  a  benefit;  can  you  deny  that  the  boundless 
extent  of  the  earth  is  a  benefit?  If  any  one  gave  you 
money,  you  would  call  that  a  benefit.  God  has  buried 
countless  masses  of  gold  and  silver  in  the  earth.  If  a  house 
were  given  you,  bright  with  marble,  its  roof  beautifully 
painted  with  colours  and  gilding,  you  would  call  it  no  small 
benefit.  God  has  built  for  you  a  mansion  that  fears  no  fire 
or  ruin  .  .  .  covered  with  a  roof  which  glitters  in  one 
fashion  by  day,  and  in  another  by  night.  .  .  .  Whence 
comes  the  breath  you  draw  ;  the  light  by  which  you 
perform  the  actions  of  your  life?  the  blood  by  which  your 
life  is  maintained?  the  meat  by  which  your  hunger  is 
appeased?  .  .  .  The  true  God  has  planted,  not  a  few  oxen, 
but  all  the  herds  on  their  pastures  throughout  the  world, 
and  furnished  food  to  all  the  flocks;  he  has  ordained  the 
alternation  of  summer  and  winter  .  .  .  has  invented  so 
many  arts  and  varieties  of  voice,  so  many  notes  to  make 
music.  .  .  .  We  have  implanted  in  us  the  seed  of  all  ages, 
of  all  arts ;  and  God  our  Master  brings  forth  our  intellects 
from  obscurity.  —  SENECA. 


'BFIYERSITT; 


CHAPTER   I 

INTRODUCTION 

THE  world  we  live  in  is  a  fairyland  of 
exquisite  beauty,  our  very  existence  is  a 
miracle  in  itself,  and  yet  few  of  us  enjoy  as 
we  might,  and  none  as  yet  appreciate  fully, 
the  beauties  and  wonders  which  surround  us. 
The  greatest  traveller  cannot  hope  even  in  a 
long  life  to  visit  more  than  a  very  small  part 
of  our  earth,  and  even  of  that  which  is  under 
our  very  eyes  how  little  we  see  ! 

What  we  do  see  depends  mainly  on  what 
we  look  for.  When  we  turn  our  eyes  to  the 
sky,  it  is  in  most  cases  merely  to  see  whether 
it  is  likely  to  rain.  In  the  same  field  the 
farmer  will  notice  the  crop,  geologists  the 
fossils,  botanists  the  flowers,  artists  the  colour- 
ing, sportsmen  the  cover  for  game.  Though 

3 


4  THE   BEAUTIES   OF    NATURE  CHAP. 

we  may  all  look  at  the  same  things,  it  does 
not  at  all  follow  that  we  should  see  them. 

It  is  good,  as  Keble  says,  "  to  have  our 
thoughts  lift  up  to  that  world  where  all  is 
beautiful  and  glorious,"  —  but  it  is  well  to 
realise  also  how  much  of  this  world  is  beauti- 
ful. It  has,  I  know,  been  maintained,  as  for 
instance  by  Victor  Hugo,  that  the  general 
effect  of  beauty  is  to  sadden.  "  Comme  la 
vie  de  1'homme,  meme  la  plus  prospere,  est 
toujours  au  fond  plus  triste  que  gaie,  le  ciel 
sombre  nous  est  harmonieux.  Le  ciel  ecla- 
tant  et  joyeux  nous  est  ironique.  La  Nature 
triste  nous  ressemble  et  nous  console  ;  la 
Nature  rayonnante,  magnifique,  superbe  .  ,  . 
a  quelque  chose  d'accablant."  l 

This  seems  to  me,  I  confess,  a  morbid 
view.  There  are  many  no  doubt  on  whom 
the  effect  of  natural  beauty  is  to  intensify 
feeling,  to  deepen  melancholy,  as  well  as 
to  raise  the  spirits.  As  Mrs.  W.  R.  Greg 
in  her  memoir  of  her  husband  tells  us  : 
"His  passionate  love  for  nature,  so  amply 
fed  by  the  beauty  of  the  scenes  around  him, 

1  Choses  l^ues. 


i  INTRODUCTION  5 

intensified  the  emotions,  as  all  keen  percep- 
tion of  beauty  does,  but  it  did  not  add  to 
their  joyousness.  We  speak  of  the  pleasure 
which  nature  and  art  and  music  give  us ; 
what  we  really  mean  is  that  our  whole  be- 
ing is  quickened  by  the  uplifting  of  the  veil. 
Something  passes  into  us  which  makes  our 
sorrows  more  sorrowful,  our  joys  more  joyful, 
—  our  whole  life  more  vivid.  So  it  was  with 
him.  The  long  solitary  wanderings  over  the 
hills,  and  the  beautiful  moonlight  nights  on 
the  lake  served  to  make  the  shadows  seem 
darker  that  were  brooding  over  his  home." 

But  surely  to  most  of  us  Nature  when 
sombre,  or  even  gloomy,  is  soothing  and  con- 
soling ;  when  bright  and  beautiful,  not  only 
raises  the  spirits,  but  inspires  and  elevates 
our  whole  being  — 

Nature  never  did  betray 
The  heart  that  loved  her ;  'tis  her  privilege, 
Through  all  the  years  of  this  our  life,  to  lead 
From  joy  to  joy  :  for  she  can  so  inform 
The  mind  that  is  within  us,  so  impress 
With  quietness  and  beauty,  and  so  feed 
With  lofty  thoughts,  that  neither  evil  tongues, 
Rash  judgments,  nor  the  sneers  of  selfish  men, 


6  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

Nor  greetings  where  no  kindness  is,  nor  all 
The  dreary  intercourse  of  daily  life, 
Shall  e'er  prevail  against  us,  or  disturb 
Our  cheerful  faith,  that  all  which  we  behold 
Is  full  of  blessings.1 

Kingsley  speaks  with  enthusiasm  of  the 
heaths  and  moors  round  his  home,  "  where 
I  have  so  long  enjoyed  the  wonders  of  na- 
ture ;  never,  I  can  honestly  say,  alone ;  be- 
cause when  man  was  not  with  me,  I  had 
companions  in  every  bee,  and  flower  and 
pebble  ;  and  never  idle,  because  I  could  not 
pass  a  swamp,  or  a  tuft  of  heather,  without 
finding  in  it  a  fairy  tale  of  which  I  could 
but  decipher  here  and  there  a  line  or  two, 
arid  yet  found  them  more  interesting  than  all 
the  books,  save  one,  which  were  ever  written 
upon  earth." 

Those  who  love  Nature  can  never- be  dull. 
They  may  have  other  temptations ;  but  at 
least  they  will  run  no  risk  of  being  beguiled, 
by  ennui,  idleness,  or  want  of  occupation, 
"  to  buy  the  merry  madness  of  an  hour  with 
the  long  penitence  of  after  time."  The  love 
of  Nature,  again,  helps  us  greatly  to  keep 

1  Wordsworth. 


i  INTRODUCTION  7 

ourselves  free  from  those  mean  and  petty  cares 
which  interfere  so  much  Avith  calm  and  peace 
of  mind.  It  turns  "every  ordinary  walk 
into  a  morning  or  evening  sacrifice,"  and 
brightens  life  until  it  becomes  almost  like  a 
fairy  tale. 

In  the  romances  of  the  Middle  Ages  we  read 
of  knights  who  loved,  and  were  loved  by, 
Nature  spirits,  —  of  Sir  Launfal  and  the  Fairy 
Tryamour,  who  furnished  him  with  many 
good  things,  including  a  magic  purse,  in 
which 

As  oft  as  thou  puttest  thy  hand  therein 
A  mark  of  gold  thou  shalt  iwinne, 

as  well  as  protection  from  the  main  dangers 
of  life.  Such  times  have  passed  away,  but 
better  ones  have  come.  It  is  not  now  merely 
the  few,  who  are  so  favoured.  All  those 
who  love  Nature  she  loves  in  return,  and 
will  richly  reward,  not  perhaps  with  the 
good  things,  as  they  are  commonly  called, 
but  with  the  best  things,  of  this  world ;  not 
with  money  and  titles,  horses  and  carriages, 
but  with  bright  and  happy  thoughts,  content- 
ment and  peace  of  mind. 


8  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

Happy  indeed  is  the  naturalist :  to  him 
the  seasons  come  round  like  old  friends ;  to 
him  the  birds  sing :  as  he  walks  along,  the 
flowers  stretch  out  from  the  hedges,  or  look 
up  from  the  ground,  and  as  each  year  fades 
away,  he  looks  back  on  a  fresh  store  of 
happy  memories. 

Though  we  can  never  "  remount  the  river 
of  our  years,"  he  who  loves  Nature  is  always 
young.  But  what  is  the  love  of  Nature  ? 
Some  seem  to  think  they  show  a  love  of 
flowers  by  gathering  them.  How  often  one 
finds  a  bunch  of  withered  blossoms  on  the 
roadside,  plucked  only  to  be  thrown  away ! 
Is  this  love  of  Nature  ?  It  is,  on  the  con- 
trary, a  wicked  waste,  for  a  waste  of  beauty 
is  almost  the  worst  waste  of  all. 

If  we  could  imagine  a  day  prolonged  for 
a  lifetime,  or  nearly  so,  and  that  sunrise  and 
sunset  were  rare  events  which  happened  but 
a -few  times  to  each  of  us,  we  should  certainly 
be  entranced  by  the  beauty  of  the  morning 
and  evening  tints.  The  golden  rays  of  the 
morning  are  a  fortune  in  themselves,  but  we 
too  often  overlook  the  loveliness  of  Nature, 


i  INTRODUCTION  9 

because  it  is  constantly  before  us.  For  "the 
senseless  folk/'  says  King  Alfred, 

is  far  more  struck 
At  things  it  seldom  sees. 

"  Well,"  says  Cicero,  "  did  Aristotle  observe, 
6  If  there  were  men  whose  habitations  had 
been  always  underground,  in  great  and  com- 
modious houses,  adorned  with  statues  and 
pictures,  furnished  with  everything  which 
they  who  are  reputed  happy  abound  with  ;  and 
if,  without  stirring  from  thence,  they  should 
be  informed  of  a  certain  divine  power  and 
majesty,  and,  after  some  time,  the  earth  should 
open,  and  they  should  quit  their  dark  abode  to 
come  to  us ;  where  they  should  immediately 
behold  the  earth,  the  seas,  the  heavens ;  should 
consider  the  vast  extent  of  the  clouds  and 
force  of  the  winds ;  should  see  the  sun,  and 
observe  his  grandeur  and  beauty,  and  also  his 
creative  power,  inasmuch  as  day  is  occasioned 
by  the  diffusion  of  his  light  through  the  sky ; 
and  when  night  has  obscured  the  earth,  they 
should  contemplate  the  heavens  bespangled 
and  adorned  with  stars  ;  the  surprising  variety 


10  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

of  the  moon,  in  her  increase  and  wane ;  the 
rising  and  setting  of  all  the  stars,  and  the 
inviolable  regularity  of  their  courses ;  when," 
says  he,  '  they  should  see  these  things,  they 
would  undoubtedly  conclude  that  there  are 
Gods,  and  that  these  are  their  mighty 
works.' ' 

Is  my  life  vulgar,  my  fate  mean, 

Which  on  such  golden  memories  can  lean  ?  2 

At  the  same  time  the  change  which  has 
taken  place  in  the  character  of  our  religion 
has  in  one  respect  weakened  the  hold  which 
Nature  has  upon  our  feelings.  To  the 
Greeks — to  our  own  ancestors,  —  every  River 
or  Mountain  or  Forest  had  not  only  its  own 
special  Deity,  but  in  some  sense  was  itself 
instinct  with  life.  They  were  not  only 
peopled  by  Nymphs  and  Fauns,  Elves  and 
Kelpies,  were  not  only  the  favourite  abodes 
of  Water,  Forest,  or  Mountain  Spirits,  but 
they  had  a  conscious  existence  of  their  own. 

In  the    Middle  Ages  indeed,  these    spirits 

1  Cicero,  De  Natura  Deorum. 

2  Thoreau. 


i  INTRODUCTION  11 

were  regarded  as  often  mischievous,  and  apt 
to  take  offence ;  sometimes  as  essentially 
malevolent- — even  the  most  beautiful,  like 
the  Venus  of  Tannhauser,  being  often  on  that 
very  account  all  the  more  dangerous ;  while 
the  Mountains  and  Forests,  the  Lakes  and 
Seas,  were  the  abodes  of  hideous  ghosts  and 
horrible  monsters,  of  Giants  and  Ogres,  Sor- 
cerers and  Demons.  These  fears,  though 
vague,  were  none  the  less  extreme,  and  the 
judicial  records  of  the  Middle  Ages  furnish 
only  too  conclusive  evidence  that  they  were 
a  terrible  reality.  The  light  of  Science  has 
now  happily  dispelled  these  fearful  nightmares. 
Unfortunately,  however,  as  men  have  mul- 
tiplied, their  energies  have  hitherto  tended, 
not  to  beautify,  but  to  mar.  Forests  have 
been  cut  down,  and  replaced  by  flat  fields  in 
geometrical  squares,  or  on  the  continent  by 
narrow  strips.  Here  and  there  indeed  we 
meet  with  oases,  in  which  beauty  has  not 
been  sacrificed  to  profit,  and  it  is  then  happily 
found  that  not  only  is  there  no  loss,  but  the 
earth  seems  to  reward  even  more  richly  those 
who  treat  her  with  love  and  respect. 


12  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

Scarcely  any  part  of  the  world  affords  so 
great  a  variety  in  so  small  an  area  as  our  own 
island.  Commencing  in  the  south,  we  have 
first  the  blue  sea  itself,  the  pebbly  beaches, 
the  white  chalk  cliffs  of  Kent,  the  tinted 
sands  of  Alurn  Bay,  the  Red  Sandstone  of 
Devonshire,  Granite  and  Gneiss  in  Cornwall : 
inland  we  have  the  chalk  Downs  and  clear 
streams,  the  well-wooded  weald  and  the  rich 
hop  gardens ;  farther  westwards  the  undu- 
lating gravelly  hills,  and  still  farther  the 
granite  tors  :  in  the  centre  of  England  we 
have  to  the  east  the  Norfolk  Broads  and 
the  Fens  ;  then  the  fertile  Midlands,  the 
cornfields,  rich  meadows,  and  large  oxen ;  and 
to  the  west  the  Welsh  mountains  ;  farther 
north  the  Yorkshire  Wolds,  the  Lancashire 
hills,  the  Lakes  of  Westmoreland ;  lastly,  the 
swelling  hills,  bleak  moors,  and  picturesque 
castles  of  Northumberland  and  Cumberland. 

There  are  of  course  far  larger  rivers,  but 
perhaps  none  lovelier  than 

The  crystal  Thamis  wont  to  glide 

In  silver  channel,  down  along  the  lee,1 

1  Spenser. 


I  INTRODUCTION  13 

by  lawns  and  parks,  meadows  and  wooded 
banks,  dotted  with  country  houses  and  crowned 
by  Windsor  Castle  itself  (see  Frontispiece). 
By  many  Scotland  is  considered  even  more 
beautiful. 

And  yet  too  many  of  us  see  nothing  in  the 
fields  but  sacks  of  wheat,  in  the  meadows  but 
trusses  of  hay,  and  in  woods  but  planks  for 
houses,  or  cover  for  game.  Even  from  this 
more  prosaic  point  of  view,  how  much  there 
is  to  wonder  at  and  admire,  in  the  wonderful 
chemistry  which  changes  grass  and  leaves, 
flowers  and  seeds,  into  bread  and  milk,  eggs 
and  cream,  butter  and  honey ! 

Almost  everything,  says  Hamerton,  "that 
the  Peasant  does,  is  lifted  above  vulgarity 
by  ancient,  and  often  sacred,  associations." 
There  is,  indeed,  hardly  any  business  or  occu- 
pation with  reference  to  which  the  same  might 
not  be  said.  The  triviality  or  vulgarity  does 
not  depend  on  what  we  do,  but  on  the  spirit 
in  which  it  is  done.  Not  only  the  regular  pro- 
fessions, but  every  useful  occupation  in  life, 
however  humble,  is  honourable  in  itself,  and 
may  be  pursued  with  dignity  and  peace. 


14  THE  BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

Working  in  this  spirit  we  have  also  the  sat- 
isfaction of  feeling  that,  as  in  some  mountain 
track  every  one  who  takes  the  right  path, 
seems  to  make  the  way  clearer  for  those  who 
follow ;  so  may  we  also  raise  the  profession 
we  adopt,  and  smooth  the  way  for  those  who 
come  after  us.  But,  even  for  those  who  are 
not  Agriculturists,  it  must  be  admitted  that 
the  country  has  special  charms.  One  perhaps 
is  the  continual  change.  Every  week  brings 
some  fresh  leaf  or  flower,  bird  or  insect. 
Every  month  again  has  its  own  charms  and 
beauty.  We  sit  quietly  at  home  and  Nature 
decks  herself  for  us. 

In  truth  we  all  love  change.  Some  think 
they  do  not  care  for  it,  but  I  doubt  if  they 
know  themselves. 

"Not,"  said  Jefferies,  "for  many  years 
was  I  able  to  see  why  I  went  the  same  round 
and  did  not  care  for  change.  I  do  not  want 
change  :  I  want  the  same  old  and  loved  things, 
the  same  wild  flowers,  the  same  trees  and  soft 
ash-green;  the  turtle-doves,  the  blackbirds, 
the  coloured  yellow-hammer  sing,  sing,  sing- 
ing so  long  as  there  is  light  to  cast  a  shadow 


i  INTRODUCTION  15 

on  the  dial,  for  such  is  the  measure  of  his 
song,  and  I  want  them  in  the  same  place. 
Let  me  find  them  morning  after  morning, 
the  starry-white  petals  radiating,  striving 
upwards  up  to  their  ideal.  Let  me  see  the 
idle  shadows  resting  on  the  white  dust ;  let 
me  hear  the  humble-bees,  and  stay  to  look 
down  on  the  yellow  dandelion  disk.  Let  me 
see  the  very  thistles  opening  their  great 
crowns  —  I  should  miss  the  thistles  ;  the  reed 
grasses  hiding  the  moor-hen ;  the  bryony 
bine,  at  first  crudely  ambitious  and  lifted  by 
force  of  youthful  sap  straight  above  the 
hedgerow  to  sink  of  its  weight  presently  and 
progress  with  crafty  tendrils ;  swifts  shot 
through  the  air  with  outstretched  wings  like 
crescent-headed  shaftless  arrows  darted  from 
the  clouds ;  the  chaffinch  with  a  feather  in 
her  bill ;  all  the  living  staircase  of  the  spring, 
step  by  step,  upwards  to  the  great  gallery  of 
the  summer,  let  me  watch  the  same  succession 
year  by  year." 

After  all  then  he  did  enjoy  the  change 
and  the  succession. 

Kingsley    again    in    his     charming    prose 


16  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

idyll  "My  Winter  Garden"  tries  to  persuade 
himself  that  he  was  glad  he  had  never 
travelled,  "  having  never  yet  actually  got  to 
Paris."  Monotony,  he  says,  "  is  pleasant  in 
itself;  morally  pleasant,  and  morally  useful. 
Marriage  is  monotonous ;  but  there  is  much, 
I  trust,  to  be  said  in  favour  of  holy  wedlock. 
Living  in  the  same  house  is  monotonous ; 
but  three  removes,  say  the  wise,  are  as  bad 
as  a  fire.  Locomotion  is  regarded  as  an  evil 
by  our  Litany.  The  Litany,  as  usual,  is 
right.  '  Those  who  travel  by  land  or  sea '  are 
to  be  objects  of  our  pity  and  our  prayers  ; 
and  I  do  pity  them.  I  delight  in  that  same 
monotony.  It  saves  curiosity,  anxiety,  ex- 
citement, disappointment,  and  a  host  of  bad 
passions." 

But  even  as  he  writes  one  can  see  that 
he  does  not  convince  himself.  Possibly,  he 
admits,  "  after  all,  the  grapes  are  sour  "  ;  and 
when  some  years  after  he  did  travel,  how 
happy  he  was !  At  last,  he  says,  trium- 
phantly, "  At  last  we  too  are  crossing  the 
Atlantic.  At  last  the  dream  of  forty  years, 
please  God,  would  be  fulfilled,  and  I  should 


i  INTRODUCTION  17 

see  (and  happily  not  alone),  the  West  Indies 
and  the  Spanish  Main.  From  childhood  I 
had  studied  their  Natural  History,  their 
Charts,  their  Romances ;  and  now,  at  last,  I 
was  about  to  compare  books  with  facts,  and 
judge  for  myself  of  the  reported  wonders  of 
the  Earthly  Paradise." 

No  doubt  there  is  much  to  see  everywhere. 
The  Poet  and  the  Naturalist  find  "  tropical 
forests  in  every  square  foot  of  turf."  It  may 
even  be  better,  and  especially  for  the  more 
sensitive  natures,  to  live  mostly  in  quiet 
scenery,  among  fields  and  hedgerows,  woods 
and  downs  ;  but  it  is  surely  good  for  every 
one,  from  time  to  time,  to  refresh  and 
strengthen  both  mind  and  body  by  a  spell  of 
Sea  air  or  Mountain  beauty. 

On  the  other  hand  we  are  told,  and  told 
of  course  with  truth,  that  though  mountains 
may  be  the  cathedrals  of  Nature,  they  are 
generally  remote  from  centres  of  population  ; 
that  our  great  cities  are  grimy,  dark,  and 
ugly ;  that  factories  are  creeping  over  several 
of  our  counties,  blighting  them  into  building 
ground,  replacing  trees  by  chimneys,  and 


18  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

destroying  almost  every  vestige  of  natural 
beauty. 

But  if  this  be  true,  is  it  not  all  the  more 
desirable  that  our  people  should  have  access 
to  pictures  and  books,  which  may  in  some 
small  degree,  at  any  rate,  replace  what  they 
have  thus  unfortunately  lost  ?  We  cannot  all 
travel ;  and  even  those  who  can,  are  able  to 
see  but  a  small  part  of  the  world.  More- 
over, though  no  one  who  has  once  seen,  can 
ever  forget,  the  Alps,  the  Swiss  lakes,  or  the 
Riviera,  still  the  recollection  becomes  less 
vivid  as  years  roll  on,  and  it  is  pleasant, 
from  time  to  time,  to  be  reminded  of  their 
beauties. 

There  is  one  other  advantage  not  less 
important.  We  sometimes  speak  xas  if  to 
visit  a  country,  and  to  see  it,  were  the  same 
thing.  But  this  is  not  so.  It  is  not  every 
one  who  can  see  Switzerland  like  a  Ruskin 
or  a  Tyndall.  Their  beautiful  descriptions 
of  mountain  scenery  depend  less  on  their 
mastery  of  the  English  language,  great  as  that 
is,  than  on  their  power  of  seeing  what  is 
before  them.  It  has  been  to  me  therefore  a 


i  INTRODUCTION  19 

matter  of  much  interest  to  know  which 
aspects  of  Nature  have  given  the  greatest 
pleasure  to,  or  have  most  impressed,  those 
who,  either  from  wide  experience  or  from 
their  love  of  Nature,  may  be  considered  best 
able  to  judge.  I  will  begin  with  an  English 
scene  from  Kingsley.  He  is  describing  his 
return  from  a  day's  trout-fishing  :  — 

"What  shall  we  see,"  he  says,  "  as  we  look 
across  the  broad,  still,  clear  river,  where  the 
great  dark  trout  sail  to  and  fro  lazily  in  the 
sun?  White  chalk  fields  above,  quivering 
hazy  in  the  heat.  A  park  full  of  merry  hay- 
makers ;  gay  red  and  blue  waggons ;  stalwart 
horses  switching  off  the  flies ;  dark  avenues 
of  tall  elms  ;  groups  of  abele,  6  tossing  their 
whispering  silver  to  the  sun  '  ;  and  amid  them 
the  house,  —  a  great  square  red-brick  mass, 
made  light  and  cheerful  though  by  quoins 
and  windows  of  white  Sarsden  stone,  with 
high  peaked  French  roofs,  broken  by  louvres 
and  dormers,  haunted  by  a  thousand  swallows 
and  starlings.  Old  walled  gardens,  gay  with 
flowers,  shall  stretch  right  and  left.  Clipt 
yew  alleys  shall  wander  away  into  mysterious 


20  THE    BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

glooms,  and  out  of  their  black  arches  shall 
come  tripping  children,  like  white  fairies,  to 
laugh  and  talk  with  the  girl  who  lies  dream- 
ing and  reading  in  the  hammock  there,  beneath 
the  black  velvet  canopy  of  the  great  cedar 
tree,  like  some  fair  tropic  flower  hanging  from 
its  boughs  ;  and  we  will  sit  down,  and  eat 
and  drink  among  the  burdock  leaves,  and 
then  watch  the  quiet  house,  and  lawn,  and 
flowers,  and  fair  human  creatures,  and  shining 
water,  all  sleeping  breathless  in  the  glorious 
light  beneath  the  glorious  blue,  till  we  doze 
off,  lulled  by  the  murmur  of  a  thousand  in- 
sects, and  the  rich  minstrelsy  of  nightingale 
and  blackcap,  thrush  and  dove. 

"  Peaceful,  graceful,  complete  English  coun- 
try life  and  country  houses  ;  everywhere  fin- 
ish and  polish  ;  Nature  perfected  by  the  wealth 
and  art  of  peaceful  centuries !  Why  should 
I  exchange  you,  even  for  the  sight  of  all  the 
Alps?" 

Though  Jefferies  was  unfortunately  never 
able  to  travel,  few  men  have  loved  Nature 
more  devotedly,  and  speaking  of  his  own 
home  he  expresses  his  opinion  that :  "  Of  all 


i  INTRODUCTION  21 

sweet  things  there  is  none  so  sweet  as  fresh 
air  —  one  great  flower  it  is,  drawn  round  about; 
over,  and  enclosing  us?  like  Aphrodite's  arms ; 
as  if  the  dome  of  the  sky  were  a  bell-flower 
drooping  down  over  us,  and  the  magical 
essence  of  it  filling  all  the  room  of  the  earth. 
Sweetest  of  all  things  is  wild-flower  air.  Full 
of  their  ideal  the  starry  flowers  strained  up- 
wards on  the  bank,  striving  to  keep  above 
the  rude  grasses  that  push  by  them  ;  genius 
has  ever  had  such  a  struggle.  The  plain  road 
was  made  beautiful  by  the  many  thoughts  it 
gave.  I  came  every  morning  to  stay  by  the 
star-lit  bank." 

Passing  to  countries  across  the  ocean,  Hum- 
boldt  tells  us  that :  "  If  I  might  be  allowed  to 
abandon  myself  to  the  recollection  of  my  own 
distant  travels,  I  would  instance,  amongst  the 
most  striking  scenes  of  nature,  the  calm  sub- 
limity of  a  tropical  night,  when  the  stars,  not 
sparkling,  as  in  our  northern  skies,  shed  their 
soft  and  planetary  light  over  the  gently  heav- 
ing ocean  ;  or  I  would  recall  the  deep  valleys 
of  the  Cordilleras,  where  the  tall  and  slender 
palms  pierce  the  leafy  veil  around  them,  and 


22  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

waving  on  high  their  feathery  and  arrow-like 
branches,  form,  as  it  were,  '  a  forest  above  a 
forest ' ;  or  I  would  describe  the  summit  of 
the  Peak  of  Teneriffe,  when  a  horizon  layer 
of  clouds,  dazzling  in  whiteness,  has  separated 
the  cone  of  cinders  from  the  plain  below,  and 
suddenly  the  ascending  current  pierces  the 
cloudy  veil,  so  that  the  eye  of  the  traveller 
may  range  from  the  brink  of  the  crater,  along 
the  vine-clad  slopes  of  Orotava,  to  the  orange 
gardens  and  banana  groves  that  skirt  the 
shore.  In  scenes  like  these,  it  is  not  the 
peaceful  charm  uniformly  spread  over  the  face 
of  nature  that  moves  the  heart,  but  rather  the 
peculiar  physiognomy  and  conformation  of  the 
land,  the  features  of  the  landscape,  the  ever- 
varying  outline  of  the  clouds,  and  their  blend- 
ing with  the  horizon  of  the  sea,  whether  it 
lies  spread  before  us  like  a  smooth  and  shining 
mirror,  or  is  dimly  seen  through  the  morning 
mist.  All  that  the  senses  can  but  imperfectly 
comprehend,  all  that  is  most  awful  in  such 
romantic  scenes  of  nature,  may  become  a 
source  of  enjoyment  to  man,  by  opening  a  wide 
field  to  the  creative  power  of  his  imagination. 


i  INTRODUCTION  23 

Impressions  change  with  the  varying  move- 
ments of  the  mind,  and  we  are  led  by  a  happy 
illusion  to  believe  that  we  receive  from  the  ex- 
ternal world  that  with  which  we  have  our- 
selves invested  it." 

Hurnboldt  also  singles  out  for  especial  praise 
the  following  description  given  of  Tahiti  by 
Darwin l :  — 

"  The  land  capable  of  cultivation  is  scarcely 
in  any  part  more  than  a  fringe  of  low  alluvial 
soil,  accumulated  round  the  base  of  mountains, 
and  protected  from  the  waves  of  the  sea  by  a 
coral  reef,  which  encircles  at  a  distance  the 
entire  line  of  coast.  The  reef  is  broken  in  sev- 
eral parts  so  that  ships  can  pass  through,  and 
the  lake  of  smooth  water  within,  thus  affords 
a  safe  harbour,  as  well  as  a  channel  for  the 
native  canoes.  The  low  land  which  comes 
down  to  the  beach  of  coral  sand  is  covered  by 
the  most  beautiful  productions  of  the  inter- 
tropical  regions.  In  the  midst  of  bananas, 
orange,  cocoa-nut,  and  breadfruit  trees,  spots 
are  cleared  where  yams,  sweet  potatoes,  sugar- 
cane, and  pine-apples  are  cultivated.  Even 

1  Darwin's  Voyage  of  the  Beagle. 


24  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE     ^  CHAP. 

the  brushwood  is  a  fruit  tree,  namely,  the 
guava,  which  from  its  abundance  is  as  noxious 
as  a  weed.  In  Brazil  I  have  often  admired 
the  contrast  of  varied  beauty  in  the  banana, 
palm,  and  orange  tree;  here  we  have  in  addi- 
tion the  breadfruit  tree,  conspicuous  from  its 
large,  gloss}^,  and  deeply  digitated  leaf.  It  is 
admirable  to  behold  groves  of  a  tree,  sending 
forth  its  branches  with  the  force  of  an  Eng- 
lish Oak,  loaded  with  large  and  most  nutri- 
tious fruit.  However  little  on  most  occasions 
utility  explains  the  delight  received  from  any 
fine  prospect,  in  this  case  it  cannot  fail  to  en- 
ter as  an  element  in  the  feeling.  The  little 
winding  paths,  cool  from  the  surrounding 
shade,  led  to  the  scattered  houses ;  and  the 
owners  of  these  everywhere  gave  us  a  cheerful 
and  most  hospitable  reception." 

Darwin  himself  has  told  us,  after  going 
round  the  world  that  "  in  calling  up  images  of 
the  past,  I  find  the  plains  of  Patagonia  fre- 
quently cross  before  my  eyes ;  yet  these  plains 
are  pronounced  by  all  to  be  most  wretched 
and  useless.  They  are  characterised  only  by 
negative  possessions ;  without  habitations, 


r  INTRODUCTION  25 

without  water,  without  trees,  without  moun- 
tains, they  support  only  a  few  dwarf  plants. 
Why  then  —  and  the  case  is  not  peculiar  to 
myself  —  have  these  arid  wastes  taken  so  firm 
possession  of  my  mind  ?  Why  have  not  the 
still  more  level,  the  greener  and  more  fertile 
pampas,  which  are  serviceable  to  mankind, 
produced  an  equal  impression  ?  I  can  scarcely 
analyse  these  feelings,  but  it  must  be  partly 
owing  to  the  free  scope  given  to  the  imagina- 
tion. The  plains  of  Patagonia  are  boundless, 
for  they  are  scarcely  practicable,  and  hence 
unknown  ;  they  bear  the  stamp  of  having  thus 
lasted  for  ages,  and  there  appears  no  limit  to 
their  duration  through  future  time.  If,  as 
the  ancients  supposed,  the  flat  earth  was  sur- 
rounded by  an  impassable  breadth  of  water, 
or  by  deserts  heated  to  an  intolerable  excess, 
who  would  not  look  at  these  last  boundaries 
to  man's  knowledge  with  deep  but  ill-de- 
fined sensations  ?  " 

Hamerton,  whose  wide  experience  and 
artistic  power  make  his  opinion  especially 
important,  says :  — 

"  I  know  nothing  in  the  visible  world  that 


26  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

combines  splendour  and  purity  so  perfectly  as 
a  great  mountain  entirely  covered  with  frozen 
snow  and  reflected  in  the  vast  mirror  of  a 
lake.  As  the  sun  declines,  its  thousand 
shadows  lengthen,  pure  as  the  cold  green 
azure  in  the  depth  of  a  glacier's  crevasse,  and 
the  illuminated  snow  takes  first  the  tender 
colour  of  a  white  rose,  and  then  the  flush  of  a 
red  one,  and  the  sky  turns  to  a  pale  malachite 
green,  till  the  rare  strange  vision  fades  into 
ghastly  gray,  but  leaves  with  you  a  permanent 
recollection  of  its  too  transient  beauty."  l 

Wallace  especially,  and  very  justly,  praises 
the  description  of  tropical  forest  scenery  given 
by  Belt  in  his  charming  Naturalist  in  Nica- 
ragua :  — 

"  On  each  side  of  the  road  great  trees 
towered  up,  carrying  their  crowns  out  of  sight 
amongst  a  canopy  of  foliage,  and  with  lianas 
hanging  from  nearly  every  bough,  and  passing 
from  tree  to  tree,  entangling  the  giants  in  a 
great  network  of  coiling  cables.  Sometimes 
a  tree  appears  covered  with  beautiful  flowers 
which  do  not  belong  to  it,  but  to  one  of  the 

1  Hainerton's  Landscape. 


i  INTRODUCTION  27 

lianas  that  twines  through  its  branches  and 
sends  down  great  rope-like  stems  to  the 
ground.  Climbing  ferns  and  vanilla  cling  to 
the  trunks,  and  a  thousand  epiphytes  perch 
themselves  on  the  branches.  Amongst  these 
are  large  arums  that  send  down  long  aerial 
roots,  tough  and  strong,  and  universally  used 
instead  of  cordage  by  the  natives.  Amongst 
the  undergrowth  several  small  species  of 
palms,  varying  in  height  from  two  to  fifteen 
feet,  are  common  ;  and  now  and  then  magnif- 
icent tree  ferns  send  off  their  feathery  crowns 
twenty  feet  from  the  ground  to  delight  the 
sight  by  their  graceful  elegance.  Great  broad- 
leaved  heliconias,  leathery  melastomse,  and 
succulent-stemmed,  lop-sided  leaved  and  flesh- 
coloured  begonias  are  abundant,  and  typical  of 
tropical  American  forests  ;  but  not  less  so  are 
the  cecropia  trees,  with  their  white  stems  and 
large  palmated  leaves  standing  up  like  great 
candelabra.  Sometimes  the  ground  is  carpeted 
with  large  flowers,  yellow,  pink,  or  white, 
that  have  fallen  from  some  invisible  tree-top 
above ;  or  the  air  is  filled  with  a  delicious 
perfume,  the  source  of  which  one  seeks  around 


28  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

in  vain,  for  the  flowers  that  cause  it  are  far 
overhead  out  of  sight,  lost  in  the  great  over- 
shadowing crown  of  verdure." 

"  But,"  he  adds,  "  the  uniformity  of  climate 
which  has  led  to  this  rich  luxuriance  and  end- 
less variety  of  vegetation  is  also  the  cause  of 
a  monotony  that  in  time  becomes  oppressive." 
To  quote  the  words  of  Mr.  Belt :  "  Unknown 
are  the  autumn  tints,  the  bright  browns  and 
yellows  of  English  woods ;  much  less  the  crim- 
sons, purples,  and  yellows  of  Canada,  where 
the  dying  foliage  rivals,  nay,  excels,  the  ex- 
piring dolphin  in  splendour.  Unknown  the 
cold  sleep  of  winter ;  unknown  the  lovely 
awakening  of  vegetation  at  the  first  gentle 
touch  of  spring.  A  ceaseless  round  of  ever- 
active  life  weaves  the  fairest  scenery  of  the 
tropics  into  one  monotonous  whole,  of  which 
the  component  parts  exhibit  in  detail  untold 
variety  of  beauty." 

Siberia  is  no  doubt  as  a  rule  somewhat 
severe  and  inhospitable,  but  M.  Patrin  men- 
tions with  enthusiasm  how  one  day  descend- 
ing from  the  frozen  summits  of  the  Altai,  he 
came  suddenly  on  a  view  of  the  plain  of  the 


r  INTRODUCTION  29 

Obi  —  the  most  beautiful  spectacle,  he  says, 
which  he  had  ever  witnessed.  Behind  him 
were  barren  rocks  and  the  snows  of  winter,  in 
front  a  great  plain,  not  indeed  entirely  green, 
or  green  only  in  places,  and  for  the  rest 
covered  by  three  flowers,  the  purple  Siberian 
Iris,  the  golden  Hemerocallis,  and  the  silvery 
Narcissus  —  green,  purple,  gold,  and  white, 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach. 

Wallace  tells  us  that  he  himself  has  de- 
rived the  keenest  enjoyment  from  his  sense 
of  colour :  — 

"  The  heavenly  blue  of  the  firmament,  the 
glowing  tints  of  sunset,  the  exquisite  purity 
of  the  snowy  mountains,  and  the  endless 
shades  of  green  presented  by  the  verdure-clad 
surface  of  the  earth,  are  a  never -failing 
source  of  pleasure  to  all  who  enjoy  the  ines- 
timable gift  of  sight.  Yet  these  constitute, 
as  it  were,  but  the  frame  and  background  of 
a  marvellous  and  ever-changing  picture.  In 
contrast  with  these  broad  and  soothing  tints, 
we  have  presented  to  us  in  the  vegetable  and 
animal  worlds  an  infinite  variety  of  objects 
adorned  with  the  most  beautiful  and  most 


30  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

varied  hues.  Flowers,  insects,  and  birds  are 
the  organisms  most  generally  ornamented  in 
this  way  ;  and  their  symmetry  of  form,  their 
variety  of  structure,  and  the  lavish  abun- 
dance with  which  they  clothe  and  enliven 
the  earth,  cause  them  to  be  objects  of 
universal  admiration.  The  relation  of  this 
wealth  of  colour  to  our  mental  and  moral 
nature  is  indisputable.  The  child  and  the 
savage  alike  admire  the  gay  tints  of  flowers, 
birds,  and  insects ;  while  to  many  of  us  their 
contemplation  brings  a  solace  and  enjoyment 
which  is  both  intellectually  and  morally 
beneficial.  It  can  then  hardly  excite  surprise 
that  this  relation  was  long  thought  to  afford  a 
sufficient  explanation  of  the  phenomena  of  col- 
our in  nature;  and  although  the  fact  that  — 

Full  many  a  flower  is  born  to  blush  unseen, 
And  waste  its  sweetness  on  the  desert  air, 

might  seem  to  throw  some  doubt  on  the  suffi- 
ciency of  the  explanation,  the  answer  was 
easy,  —  that  in  the  progress  of  discovery  man 
would,  sooner  or  later,  find  out  and  enjoy 
every  beauty  that  the  hidden  recesses  of  the 
earth  have  in  store  for  him." 


i  INTRODUCTION  31 

Professor  Colvin  speaks  with  special  admi- 
ration of  Greek  scenery  :  — 

"  In  other  climates,  it  is  only  in  particular 
states  of  the  weather  that  the  remote  ever 
seems  so  close,  and  then  with  an  effect  which 
is  sharp  and  hard  as  well  as  clear-;  here  the 
clearness  is  soft ;  nothing  cuts  or  glitters,  seen 
through  that  magic  distance ;  the  air  has  not 
only  a  new  transparency  so  that  you  can  see 
farther  into  it  than  elsewhere,  but  a  new 
quality,  like  some  crystal  of  an  unknown 
water,  so  that  to  see  into  it  is  greater  glory." 
Speaking  of  the  ranges  and  promontories  of 
sterile  limestone,  the  same  writer  observes 
that  their  colours  are  as  austere  and  delicate 
as  the  forms.  "  If  here  the  scar  of  some  old 
quarry  throws  a  stain,  or  there  the  clinging  of 
some  thin  leafage  spreads  a  bloom,  the  stain 
is  of  precious  gold,  and  the  bloom  of  silver. 
Between  the  blue  of  the  sky  and  the  tenfold 
blue  of  the  sea  these  bare  ranges  seem,  be- 
neath that  daylight,  to  present  a  whole  sys- 
tem of  noble  colour  flung  abroad  over  perfect 
forms.  And  wherever,  in  the  general  sterility, 
you  find  a  little  moderate  verdure  —  a  little 


32  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

moist  grass,  a  cluster  of  cypresses  —  or  when- 
ever your  eye  lights  upon  the  one  wood  of  the 
district,  the  long  olive  grove  of  the  Cephissus, 
you  are  struck  with  a  sudden  sense  of  richness, 
and  feel  as  if  the  splendours  of  the  tropics 
would  be  nothing  to  this." 

Most  travellers  have  been  fascinated  by  the 
beauty  of  night  in  the  tropics.  Our  even- 
ings no  doubt  are  often  delicious  also,  though 
the  mild  climate  we  enjoy  is  partly  due  to  the 
sky  being  so  often  overcast.  In  parts  of  the 
tropics,  however,  the  air  is  calm  and  cloud- 
less throughout  nearly  the  whole  of  the  year. 
There  is  no  dew,  and  the  inhabitants  sleep  on 
the  house-tops,  in  full  view  of  the  brightness 
of  the  stars  and  the  beauty  of  the  sk}^  which 
is  almost  indescribable. 

"  II  faisait,"  says  Bernardin  de  St.  Pierre  of 
such  a  scene,  "  une  de  ces  nuits  delicieuses,  si 
communes  entre  les  tropiques,  et  dont  le  plus 
abile  pinceau  ne  rendrait  pas  le  beaute.  La 
lune  paraissait  au  milieu  du  firmament,  en- 
touree  d'un  rideau  de  images,  que  ses  rayons 
dissipaient  par  degres.  Sa  lumiere  se  repan- 
dait  insensiblement  sur  les  montagnes  de  1'ile 


i  INTRODUCTION  33 

et  sur  leurs  pitons,  qui  brillaient  d'un  vert 
argente.  Les  vents  retenaient  leurs  haleines. 
On  entendait  dans  les  bois,  au  fond  des  vallees, 
au  haut  des  rochers,  de  petits  cris,  de  doux  mur- 
mures  d'oiseaux,  qui  se  caressaient  dans  leurs 
nids,  rejouis  par  la  clarte  de  la  nuit  et  la  tran- 
quillite  de  1'air.  Tous,  jusqu'aux  insectes, 
bruissaient  sous  1'herbe.  Les  etoiles  etince- 
laient  au  ciel?  et  se  reflechissaient  au  sein  de 
la  mer,  qui  repetait  leurs  images  tremblantes." 
In  the  Arctic  and  Antarctic  regions  the 
nights  are  often  made  quite  gorgeous  by  the 
Northern  Lights  or  Aurora  borealis,  and 
the  corresponding  appearance  in  the  Southern 
hemisphere.  The  Aurora  borealis  generally 
begins  towards  evening,  and  first  appears  as  a 
faint  glimmer  in  the  north,  like  the  approach 
of  dawn.  Gradually  a  curve  of  light  spreads 
like  an  immense  arch  of  yellowish-white  hue, 
which  gains  rapidly  in  brilliancy,  flashes  and 
vibrates  like  a  flame  in  the  wind.  Often  two 
or  even  three  arches  appear  one  over  the 
other.  After  a  while  coloured  rays  dart 
upwards  in  divergent  pencils,  often  green 
below,  yellow  in  the  centre,  and  crimson 


34  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

above,  while  it  is  said  that  sometimes  almost 
black,  or  at  least  very  dark  violet,  rays  are 
interspersed  among  the  rings  of*  light,  and 
heighten  their  effect  by  contrast.  Sometimes 
the  two  ends  of  the  arch  seem  to  rise  off  the 
horizon,  and  the  whole  sheet  of  light  throbs 
and  undulates  like  a  fringed  curtain  of  light ; 
sometimes  the  sheaves  of  rays  unite  into  an 
immense  cupola ;  while  at  others  the  separate 
rays  seem  alternately  lit  and  extinguished. 
Gradually  the  light  flickers  and  fades  away, 
and  has  generally  disappeared  before  the  first 
glimpse  of  dawn. 

We  seldom  see  the  Aurora  in  the  south  of 
England,  but  we  must  not  complain ;  our 
winters  are  mild,  and  every  month  has  its 
own  charm  and  beauty. 

In  January  we  have  the  lengthening  days. 

"   February          "      the  first  butterfly. 

"   March  "      the  opening  buds. 

"  April  "  the  young  leaves  and 

spring  flowers. 

"    May  "      the  song  of  birds. 

"  June  "  the  sweet  new-mown 

hay. 


i  INTRODUCTION  35 

In  July         we  have  the  summer  flowers. 

"  August  the  golden  grain. 

"  September      "       the  fruit. 

"  October  the  autumn  tints. 

"  November  "  the  hoar  frost  on  trees 

and  the  pure  snow. 

"  December  last  not  least,  the  holi- 

days of  Christmas, 
and  the  bright  fire- 
side. 

It  is  well  to  begin  the  year  in  January, 
for  we  have  then  before  us  all  the  hope  of 
spring. 

Oh  wind, 
If  winter  comes,  can  spring  be  long  behind?1 

Spring  seems  to  revive  us  all.  In  the  Song 
of  Solomon  — 

My  beloved  spake,  and  said  unto  me, 

Rise  up,  my  love,  my  fair  one,  and  come  away. 

For,  lo,  the  winter  is  past, 

The  rain  is  over  and  gone  ; 

The  flowers  appear  on  the  earth ; 

The  time  of  the  singing  of  birds  is  come, 

The  voice  of  the  turtle  is  heard  in  our  land, 

The  fig  tree  putteth  forth  her  green  figs, 

And  the  vines  with  the  tender  grape  give  a  good  smell. 

1  Shelley. 


36  THE   BEAUTIES  OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

"  But  indeed  there  are  days,"  says  Emer- 
son, "  which  occur  in  this  climate,  at  almost 
any  season  of  the  year,  wherein  the  world 
reaches  its  perfection,  when  the  air,  the 
heavenly  bodies,  and  the  earth  make  a  har- 
mony, as  if  nature  would  indulge  her  off- 
spring. ...  These  halcyon  days  may  be 
looked  for  with  a  little  more  assurance  in 
that  pure  October  weather,  which  we  distin- 
guish by  the  name  of  the  Indian  summer. 
The  day,  immeasurably  long,  sleeps  over  the 
broad  hills  and  warm  wide  fields.  To  have 
lived  through  all  its  sunny  hours,  seems 
longevity  enough."  Yet  does  not  the  very 
name  of  Indian  summer  imply  the  superi- 
ority of  the  summer  itself,  —  the  real,  the 
true  summer,  "  when  the  young  corn  is  burst- 
ing into  ear ;  the  awned  heads  of  rye,  wheat, 
and  barley,  and  the  nodding  panicles  of  oats, 
shoot  from  their  green  and  glaucous  stems,  in 
broad,  level,  and  waving  expanses  of  present 
beauty  and  future  promise.  The  very  waters 
are  strewn  with  flowers  :  the  buck-bean,  the 
water-violet,  the  elegant  flowering  rush,  and 
the  queen  of  the  waters,  the  pure  and  splendid 


i  INTRODUCTION  37 

white  lily,  invest  every  stream  and  lonely 
mere  with  grace."  l 

For  our  greater  power  of  perceiving,  and 
therefore  of  enjoying  Nature,  we  are  greatly 
indebted  to  Science.  Over  and  above  what  is 
visible  to  the  unaided  eye,  the  two  magic 
tubes,  the  telescope  and  microscope,  have  re- 
vealed to  us,  at  least  partially,  the  infinitely 
great  and  the  infinitely  little. 

Science,  our  Fairy  Godmother,  will,  unless 
we  perversely  reject  her  help,  and  refuse  her 
gifts,  so  richly  endow  us,  that  fewer  hours 
of  labour  will  serve  to  supply  us  with  the 
material  necessaries  of  life,  leaving  us  more 
time  to  ourselves,  more  leisure  to  enjoy  all 
that  makes  life  best  worth  living. 

Even  now  we  all  have  some  leisure,  and  for 
it  we  cannot  be  too  grateful. 

"If  any  one,"  says  Seneca,  "gave  you  a 
few  acres,  you  would  say  that  you  had  re- 
ceived a  benefit ;  can  you  deny  that  the 
boundless  extent  of  the  earth  is  a  benefit  ?  If 
a  house  were  given  you,  bright  with  marble, 
its  roof  beautifully  painted  with  colours  and 

1  Hewitt's  Book  of  the  Seasons. 


38  THE    BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP,  i 

gilding,  you  would  call  it  no  small  benefit. 
God  has  built  for  you  a  mansion  that  fears 
no  fire  or  ruin  .  .  .  covered  with  a  roof  which 
glitters  in  one  fashion  by  day,  and  in  another 
by  night.  Whence  comes  the  breath  which 
you  draw ;  the  light  by  which  you  perform 
the  actions  of  your  life  ?  the  blood  by  which 
your  life  is  maintained  ?  the  meat  by  which 
your  hunger  is  appeased  ?  .  .  .  The  true  God 
has  planted,  not  a  few  oxen,  but  all  the  herds 
on  their  pastures  throughout  the  world,  and 
furnished  food  to  all  the  flocks ;  he  has  or- 
dained the  alternation  of  summer  and  winter 
...  he  has  invented  so  many  arts  and  varie- 
ties of  voice,  so  many  notes  to  make  music. 
.  .  .  We  have  implanted  in  us  the  seeds  of 
all  ages,  of  all  arts ;  and  God  our  Master 
brings  forth  our  intellects  from  obscurity."  l 

1  Seneca,  De  Beneficiis. 


CHAPTER   II 

ON  ANIMAL   LIFE 


If  thy  heart  be  right,  then  will  every  creature  be  to  thee 
a  mirror  of  life,  and  a  book  of  holy  doctrine. 

THOMAS  A  KEMPIS. 


CHAPTER  II 

ON    ANIMAL    LIFE 

THERE  is  no  species  of  animal  or  plant  which 
would  not  well  repay,  I  will  not  say  merely 
the  study  of  a  day,  but  even  the  devotion  of 
a  lifetime.  Their  form  and  structure,  develop- 
ment and  habits,  geographical  distribution, 
relation  to  other  living  beings,  and  past 
history,  constitute  an  inexhaustible  study. 

When  we  consider  how  much  we  owe  to 
the  Dog,  Man's  faithful  friend,  to  the  noble 
Horse,  the  patient  Ox,  the  Cow,  the  Sheep, 
and  our  other  domestic  animals,  we  cannot 
be  too  grateful  to  them ;  and  if  we  cannot, 
like  some  ancient  nations,  actually  worship 
them,  we  have  perhaps  fallen  into  the  other 
extreme,  underrate  the  sacredness  of  animal 
life,  and  treat  them  too  much  like  mere 
machines. 

41 


42  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

Some  species,  however,  are  no  doubt  more 
interesting  than  others,  especially  perhaps 
those  which  live  together  in  true  communi- 
ties, and  which  offer  so  many  traits  —  some 
sad,  some  comical,  and  all  interesting, — which 
reproduce  more  or  less  closely  the  circum- 
stances of  our  own  life. 

The  modes  of  animal  life  are  almost  in- 
finitely diversified ;  some  live  on  land,  some 
in  water  ;  of  those  which  are  aquatic  some 
dwell  in  rivers,  some  in  lakes  or  pools,  some 
on  the  sea-shore,  others  in  the  depths  of  the 
ocean.  Some  burrow  in  the  ground,  some 
find  their  home  in  the  air.  Some  live  in  the 
Arctic  regions,  some  in  the  burning  deserts ; 
one  little  beetle  (Hydrobius)  in  the  thermal 
waters  of  Hammam-Meskoutin,  at  a  tempera- 
ture of  130°.  As  to  food,  some  are  carnivor- 
ous and  wage  open  war ;  some,  more  insidious, 
attack  their  victims  from  within ;  others  feed 
on  vegetable  food,  on  leaves  or  wood,  on  seeds 
or  fruits ;  in  fact,  there  is  scarcely  an  animal 
or  vegetable  substance  which  is  not  the  special 
and  favourite  food  of  one  or  more  species. 
Hence  to  adapt  them  to  these  various  require- 


n  ON  ANIMAL  LIFE  43 

ments  we  find  the  utmost  differences  of  form 
and  size  and  structure.  Even  the  same  in- 
dividual often  goes  through  great  changes. 


GROWTH    AND    METAMORPHOSES 

The  development,  indeed,  of  an  animal 
from  birth  to  maturity  is  no  mere  question 
of  growth.  The  metamorphoses  of  Insects 
have  long  excited  the  wonder  and  admiration 
of  all  lovers  of  nature.  They  depend  to  a 
great  extent  on  the  fact  that  the  little 
creatures  quit  the  egg  at  an  early  stage  of 
development,  and  lead  a  different  life,  so 
that  the  external  forces  acting  on  them, 
are  very  different  from  those  by  which  they 
are  affected  when  they  arrive  at  maturity.  A 
remarkable  case  is  that  of  certain  Beetles 
which  are  parasitic  on  Solitary  Bees.  The 
young  lava  is  very  active,  with  six  strong 
legs.  It  conceals  itself  in  some  flower,  and 
when  the  Bee  comes  in  search  of  honey,  leaps 
upon  her,  but  is  so  minute  as  not  to  be  per- 
ceived. The  Bee  constructs  her  cell,  stores  it 


44  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

with  honey,  and  lays  her  egg.  At  that  mo- 
ment the  little  larva  quits  the  Bee  and  jumps 
on  to  the  egg,  which  she  proceeds  gradually 
to  devour.  Having  finished  the  egg,  she 
attacks  the  honey;  but  under  these  circum- 
stances the  activity  which  was  at  first  so 
necessary  has  become  useless ;  the  legs  which 
did  such  good  service  are  no  longer  required ; 
and  the  active  slim  larva  changes  into  a  white 
fleshy  grub,  which  floats  comfortably  in  the 
honey  with  its  mouth  just  below  the  surface. 

Even  in  the  same  group  we  may  find  great 
differences.  For  instance,  in  the  family  of 
Insects  to  which  Bees  and  Wasps  belong, 
some  have  grub  larvae,  such  as  the  Bee  and 
Ant ;  some  have  larvae  like  caterpillars,  such 
as  the  Sawflies;  and  there  is  a  group  of 
minute  forms  the  larvse  of  which  live  inside 
the  eggs  of  other  insects,  and  present  very 
remarkable  and  abnormal  forms. 

These  differences  depend  mainly  on  the 
mode  of  life  and  the  character  of  the  food. 


ii  ON  ANIMAL   LIFE  45 


RUDIMENTARY    ORGANS 

Such  modifications  may  be  called  adaptive, 
but  there  are  others  of  a  different  origin 
that  have  reference  to  the  changes  which 
the  race  has  passed  through  in  bygone  ages. 
In  fact  the  great  majority  of  animals  do  go 
through  metamorphoses  (many  of  them  as 
remarkable,  though  not  so  familiar  as  those 
of  insects),  but  in  many  cases  they  are  passed 
through  within  the  egg  and  thus  escape 
popular  observation.  Naturalists  who  accept 
the  theory  of  evolution,  consider  that  the 
development  of  each  individual  represents  to 
a  certain  extent  that  which  the  species  has 
itself  gone  through  in  the  lapse  of  ages ;  that 
every  individual  contains  within  itself,  so  to 
say,  a  history  of  the  race.  Thus  the  rudi- 
mentary teeth  of  Cows,  Sheep,  Whales,  etc. 
(which  never  emerge  from  their  sockets),  the 
rudimentary  toes  of  many  mammals,  the  hind 
legs  of  Whales  and  of  the  Boa-constrictor, 
which  are  imbedded  in  the  flesh,  the  rudi- 
mentary collar-bone  of  the  Dog,  etc.,  are  in- 


46  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

dications  of  descent  from  ancestors  in  which 
these  organs  were  fully  developed.  Again, 
though  used  for  such  different  purposes,  the 
paddle  of  a  Whale,  the  leg  of  a  Horse  and  of 
a  Mole,  the  wing  of  a  Bird  or  a  Bat,  and  the 
arm  of  a  Man,  are  all  constructed  on  the  same 
model,  include  corresponding  bones,  and  are 
similarly  arranged.  The  long  neck  of  the 
Giraffe,  and  the  short  one  of  the  Whale  (if 
neck  it  can  be  called),  contain  the  same 
number  of  vertebrae. 

Even  after  birth  the  young  of  allied  species 
resemble  one  another  much  more  than  the 
mature  forms.  The  stripes  on  the  young 
Lion,  the  spots  on  the  young  Blackbird,  are 
well-known  cases;  and  we  find  the  same  law 
prevalent  among  the  lower  animals,  as,  for 
instance,  among  Insects  and  Crustacea.  The 
Lobster,  Crab,  Shrimp,  and  Barnacle  are  very 
unlike  when  full  grown,  but  in  their  young 
stages  go  through  essentially  similar  metamor- 
phoses. 

No  animal  is  perhaps  in  this  respect  more 
interesting  than  the  Horse.  The  skull  of  a 
Horse  and  that  of  a  Man,  though  differing  so 


ii  ON   ANIMAL   LIFE  47 

much,  are,  says  Flower,1  "  composed  of  exactly 
the  same  number  of  bones,  having  the  same 
general  arrangement  and  relation  to  each 
other.  Not  only  the  individual  bones,  but 
every  ridge  and  surface  for  the  attachment  of 
muscles,  and  every  hole  for  the  passage  of 
artery  or  nerve,  seen  in  the  one  can  be  traced 
in  the  other."  It  is  often  said  that  the 
Horse  presents  a  remarkable  peculiarity  in 
that  the  canine  teeth  grow  but  once.  There 
are,  however,  in  most  Horses  certain  spicules 
or  minute  points  which  are  shed  before  the 
appearance  of  the  permanent  canines,  and 
which  are  probably  the  last  remnants  of  the 
true  milk  canines. 

The  foot  is  reduced  to  a  single  toe,  repre- 
senting the  third  digit,  but  the  second  and 
fourth,  though  rudimentary,  are  represented 
by  the  splint  bones ;  while  the  foot  also  con- 
tains traces  of  several  muscles,  originally 
belonging  to  the  toes  which  have  now  disap- 
peared, and  which  "  linger  as  it  were  behind, 
with  new  relations  and  uses,  sometimes  in 
a  reduced,  and  almost,  if  not  quite,  function- 

1  The  Horse. 


48  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

less  condition."  Even  Man  himself  presents 
traces  of  gill-openings,  and  indications  of 
other  organs  which  are  fully  developed  in 
lower  animals. 


MODIFICATIONS 

There  is  in  New  Zealand  a  form  of  Crow 
(Hura),  in  which  the  female  has  undergone  a 
very  curious  modification.  It  is  the  only  case 
I  know,  in  which  the  bill  is  differently  shaped 
in  the  two  sexes.  The  bird  has  taken  on  the 
habits  of  a  Woodpecker,  and  the  stout  crow- 
like  bill  of  the  cock-bird  is  admirably  adapted 
to  tap  trees,  and  if  they  sound  hollow,  to  dig 
down  to  the  burrow  of  the  Insect ;  but  it 
lacks  the  horny-pointed  tip  of  the  tongue, 
which  in  the  true  Woodpecker  is  provided 
with  recurved  hairs,  thus  enabling  that  bird 
to  pierce  the  grub  and  draw  it  out.  In  the 
Hura,  however,  the  bill  of  the  hen-bird  has 
become  much  elongated  and  slightly  curved, 
and  when  the  cock  has  dug  down  to  the 
burrow,  the  hen  inserts  her  long  bill  and 


ii  ON  ANIMAL   LIFE  49 

draws  out  the  grub,  which  they  then  divide 
between  them :  a  very  pretty  illustration  of 
the  wife  as  helpmate  to  the  husband. 

It  was  indeed  until  lately  the  general 
opinion  that  animals  and  plants  came  into 
existence  just  as  we  now  see  them.  We  took 
pleasure  in  their  beauty ;  their  adaptation  to 
their  habits  and  mode  of  life  in  many  cases 
could  not  be  overlooked  or  misunderstood. 
Nevertheless  the  book  of  Nature  was  like 
some  missal  richly  illuminated,  but  written  in 
an  unknown  tongue.  The  graceful  forms  of 
the  letters,  the  beauty  of  the  colouring,  excited 
our  Avonder  and  admiration ;  but  of  the  true 
meaning  little  was  known  to  us  ;  indeed  we 
scarcely  realised  that  there  was  any  meaning 
to  decipher.  Now  glimpses  of  the  truth  are 
gradually  revealing  themselves,  we  perceive 
that  there  is  a  reason,  and  in  many  cases  we 
know  what  the  reason  is,  for  every  difference 
in  form,  in  size,  and  in  colour ;  for  every  bone 
and  every  feather,  almost  for  every  hair.1 

1  Lubbock,  Fifty  Years  of  Science. 


50  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

COLOUR 

The  colours  of  animals,  generally,  I  believe, 
serve  as  a  protection.  In  some,  however, 
they  probably  render  them  more  attractive  to 
their  mates,  of  which  the  Peacock  is  one  of 
the  most  remarkable  illustrations. 

In  richness  of  colour  birds  and  insects  vie 
even  with  flowers.  "  One  fine  red  admiral 
butterfly,"  says  Jefferies,1 "  whose  broad  wings, 
stretched  out  like  fans,  looked  simply  splendid 
floating  round  and  round  the  willows  which 
marked  the  margin  of  a  dry  pool.  His  blue 
markings  were  really  blue — blue  velvet — his 
red  and  the  white  stroke  shone  as  if  sunbeams 
were  in  his  wings.  I  wish  there  were  more 
of  these  butterflies ;  in  summer,  dry  summer, 
when  the  flowers  seem  gone  and  the  grass  is 
not  so  dear  to  us,  and  the  leaves  are  dull  with 
heat,  a  little  colour  is  so  pleasant.  To  me 
colour  is  a  sort  of  food ;  every  spot  of  colour 
is  a  drop  of  wine  to  the  spirit." 

The  varied  colours  which  add  so  much  to 

1  The  Open  Air. 


ii  ON  ANIMAL  LIFE  51 

the  beauty  of  animals  and  plants  are  not  only 
thus  a  delight  to  the  eye,  but  afford  us  also 
some  of  the  most  interesting  problems  in 
Natural  History.  Some  probably  are  not 
in  themselves  of  any  direct  advantage. 
The  brilliant  mother-of-pearl  of  certain  shells, 
which  during  life  is  completely  hidden, 
the  rich  colours  of  some  internal  organs  of 
animals,  are  not  perhaps  of  any  direct 
benefit,  but  are  incidental,  like  the  rich  and 
brilliant  hues  of  many  minerals  and  precious 
stones. 

But  although  this  may  be  true,  I  believe 
that  most  of  these  colours  are  now  of  some 
advantage.  "  The  black  back  and  silvery 
belly  of  fishes  "  have  been  recently  referred  to 
by  a  distinguished  naturalist  as  being  obvi- 
ously of  no  direct  benefit.  I  should  on 
the  contrary  have  quoted  this  case  as  one 
where  the  advantage  was  obvious.  The  dark 
back  renders  the  fish  less  conspicuous  to  an 
eye  looking  down  into  the  water ;  while  the 
white  under-surface  makes  them  less  visible 
from  below.  The  animals  of  the  desert  are 
sand-coloured  ;  those  of  the  Arctic  regions  are 


52  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

white  like  snow,  especially  in  winter ;  and 
pelagic  animals  are  blue. 

Let  us  take  certain  special  cases.  The 
Lion,  like  other  desert  animals,  is  sand-col- 
oured ;  the  Tiger  which  lives  in  the  Jungle 
has  vertical  stripes,  making  him  difficult  to 
see  among  the  upright  grass ;  Leopards  and 
the  tree-cats  are  spotted,  like  rays  of  light 
seen  through  leaves. 

An  interesting  case  is  that  of  the  animals 
living  in  the  Sargasso  or  gulf-weed  of  the 
Atlantic.  These  creatures  —  Fish,  Crustacea, 
and  Mollusks  alike  —  are  characterised  by  a 
peculiar  colouring,  not  continuously  olive  like 
the  Seaweed  itself,  but  blotched  with  rounded 
more  or  less  irregular  patches  of  bright,  opake 
white,  so  as  closely  to  resemble  fronds  cov- 
ered with  patches  of  Flustra  or  Barnacles. 

Take  the  case  of  caterpillars,  which  are 
especially  defenceless,  and  which  as  a  rule 
feed  on  leaves.  The  smallest  and  youngest 
are  green,  like  the  leaves  on  which  they  live. 
When  they  become  larger,  they  are  char- 
acterised by  longitudinal  lines,  which  break 
up  the  surface  and  thus  render  them  less 


ii  ON  ANIMAL   LIFE  53 

conspicuous.  On  older  and  larger  ones  the 
lines  are  diagonal,  like  the  nerves  of  leaves. 
Conspicuous  caterpillars  are  generally  either 
nauseous  in  taste,  or  protected  by  hairs. 


Fig.  1.  —  Chcerocampa  porcellus. 

I  say  "  generally/'  because  there  are  some 
interesting  exceptions.  The  large  caterpillars 
of  some  of  the  Elephant  Hawkmoths  are  very 
conspicuous,  and  rendered  all  the  more  so  by 
the  presence  of  a  pair  of  large  eyelike  spots. 
Every  one  who  sees  one  of  these  caterpillars 
is  struck  by  its  likeness  to  a  snake,  and  the 
so-called  "  eyes  "  do  much  to  increase  the  de- 
ception. Moreover,  the  ring  on  which  they 
are  placed  is  swollen,  and  the  insect,  when 
in  danger,  has  the  habit  of  retracting  its  head 
and  front  segments,  which  gives  it  an  addi- 
tional resemblance  to  some  small  reptile.  That 
small  birds  are,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  afraid  of 
these  caterpillars  (which,  however,  I  need  not 
say,  are  in  reality  altogether  harmless)  Weis- 


54  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATUKE  CHAP. 

maun  has  proved  by  actual  experiment.  He 
put  one  of  these  caterpillars  in  a  tray,  in 
which  he  was  accustomed  to  place  seed  for 
birds.  Soon  a  little  flock  of  sparrows  and 
other  small  birds  assembled  to  feed  as  usual. 
One  of  them  lit  on  the  edge  of  this  tray,  and 
was  just  going  to  hop  in,  when  she  spied  the 
caterpillar.  Immediately  she  began  bobbing 
her  head  up  and  down  in  the  odd  way  which 
some  small  birds  have,  but  was  afraid  to  go 
nearer.  Another  joined  her  and  then  another, 
until  at  last  there  was  a  little  company  of  ten 
or  twelve  birds  all  looking  on  in  astonishment, 
but  not  one  ventured  into  the  tray  ;  while 
one  bird,  which  lit  in  it  unsuspectingly,  beat  a 
hasty  retreat  in  evident  alarm  as  soon  as  she 
perceived  the  caterpillar.  After  waiting  for 
some  time,  Weismann  removed  it,  when  the 
birds  soon  attacked  the  seeds.  Other  cater- 
pillars also  are  probably  protected  by  their 
curious  resemblance  to  spotted  snakes.  One 
of  the  large  Indian  caterpillars  has  even  ac- 
quired the  power  of  hissing. 

Among  perfect  insects  many  resemble  closely 
the  substances  near  which  they  live.      Some 


ii  ON  ANIMAL  LIFE  55 

moths  are  mottled  so  as  to  mimic  the  bark  of 
trees,  or  moss,  or  the  surface  of  stones.  One 
beautiful  tropical  butterfly  has  a  dark  wing 
on  which  are  painted  a  series  of  green  leaf 
tips,  so  that  it  closely  resembles  the  edge  of 
a  pinnate  leaf  projecting  out  of  shade  into 
sunshine. 

The  argument  is  strengthened  by  those 
cases  in  which  the  protection,  or  other  advan- 
tage, is  due  not  merely  to  colour,  but  partly 
also  to  form.  Such  are  the  insects  which 
resemble  sticks  or  leaves.  Again,  there  are 
cases  in  which  insects  mimic  others,  which,  for 
some  reason  or  other,  are  less  liable  to  danger. 
So  also  many  harmless  animals  mimic  others 
which  are  poisonous  or  otherwise  well  pro- 
tected. Some  butterflies,  as  Mr.  Bates  has 
pointed  out,  mimic  others  which  are  nauseous 
in  taste,  and  therefore  not  attacked  by  birds. 
In  these  cases  it  is  generally  only  the  females 
that  are  mimetic,  and  in  some  cases  only  a 
part  of  them,  so  that  there  are  two,  or  even 
three,  kinds  of  females,  the  one  retaining  the 
normal  colouring  of  the  group,  the  other 
mimicking  another  species.  Some  spiders 


56  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

closely  resemble  Ants,  and  several  other  in- 
sects mimic  Wasps  or  Hornets. 

Some  reptiles  and  fish  have  actually  the 
power  of  changing  the  colour  of  their  skin  so 
as  to  adapt  themselves  to  their  surroundings. 

Many  cases  in  which  the  colouring  does  not 
at  first  sight  appear  to  be  protective,  will  on 
consideration  be  found  to  be  so.  It  has,  for 
instance,  been  objected  that  sheep  are  not 
coloured  green  ;  but  every  mountaineer  knows 
that  sheep  could  riot  have  had  a  colour  more 
adapted  to  render  them  inconspicuous,  and 
that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  distinguish  them 
from  the  rocks  which  so  constantly  crop  up 
on  hill  sides.  Even  the  brilliant  blue  of  the 
Kingfisher,  which  in  a  museum  renders  it  so 
conspicuous,  in  its  native  haunts,  on  the  con- 
trary, makes  it  difficult  to  distinguish  from  a 
flash  of  light  upon  the  water ;  and  the  richly- 
coloured  Woodpecker  wears  the  genuine  dress 
of  a  Forester  —  the  green  coat  and  crimson 
cap. 

It  has  been  found  that  some  brilliantly 
coloured  and  conspicuous  animals  are  either 
nauseous  or  poisonous.  In  these  cases  the 


it  ON   ANIMAL   LIFE  57 

brilliant   colour  is  doubtless  a  protection  by 
rendering  them  more  unmistakable. 


COMMUNITIES 

Some  animals  may  delight  us  especially  by 
their  beauty,  such  as  birds  or  butterflies ; 
others  may  surprise  us  by  their  size,  as  Ele- 
phants and  Whales,  or  the  still  more  marvel- 
lous monsters  of  ancient  times ;  may  fascinate 
us  by  their  exquisite  forms,  such  as  many  micro- 
scopic shells  ;  or  compel  our  reluctant  attention 
by  their  similarity  to  us  in  structure  ;  but  none 
offer  more  points  of  interest  than  those  which 
live  in  communities.  I  do  not  allude  to  the 
temporary  assemblages  of  Starlings,  Swallows, 
and  other  birds  at  certain  times  of  year,  nor 
even  to  the  permanent  associations  of  animals 
brought  together  by  common  wants  in  suitable 
localities,  but  to  regular  and  more  or  less  or- 
ganised associations.  Such  colonies  as  those 
of  Rooks  and  Beavers  have  no  doubt  interest- 
ing revelations  and  surprises  in  store  for  us, 
but  they  have  not  been  as  yet  so  much  studied 


58  THE  BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

as  those  of  some  insects.  Among  these  the 
Hive  Bees,  from  the  beauty  and  regularity 
of  their  cells,  from  their  utility  to  man,  and 
from  the  debt  we  owe  them  for  their  uncon- 
scious agency  in  the  improvement  of  flowers, 
hold  a  very  high  place;  but  they  are  prob- 
ably less  intelligent,  and  their  relations  with 
other  animals  and  with  one  another  are  less 
complex  than  in  the  case  of  Ants,  which  have 
been  so  well  studied  by  Gould,  Huber,  Forel, 
M'Cook,  and  other  naturalists. 

The  subject  is  a  wide  one,  for  there  are  at 
least  a  thousand  species  of  Ants,  no  two  of 
which  have  the  same  habits.  In  this  country 
we  have  rather  more  than  thirty,  most  of 
which  I  have  kept  in  confinement.  Their  life 
is  comparatively  long :  I  have  had  working 
Ants  which  were  seven  years  old,  and  a  Queen 
Ant  lived  in  one  of  my  nests  for  fifteen  years. 
The  community  consists,  in  addition  to  the 
young,  of  males,  which  do  no  work,  of  wingless 
workers,  and  one  or  more  Queen  mothers,  who 
have  at  first  wings,  which,  however,  after  one 
Marriage  flight,  they  throw  off,  as  they  never 
leave  the  nest  again,  and  in  it  wings  would  of 


n  ON  ANIMAL  LIFE  59 

course  be  useless.  The  workers  do  not,  except 
occasionally,  lay  eggs,  but  carry  on  all  the  af- 
fairs of  the  community.  Some  of  them,  and 
especially  the  younger  ones,  remain  in  the 
nest,  excavate  chambers  and  tunnels,  and  tend 
the  young,  which  are  sorted  up  according  to 
age,  so  that  my  nests  often  had  the  appear- 
ance of  a  school,  with  the  children  arranged 
in  classes. 

In  our  English  Ants  the  workers  in  each 
species  are  all  similar  except  in  size,  but 
among  foreign  species  there  are  some  in  which 
there  are  two  or  even  more  classes  of  workers, 
differing  greatly  not  only  in  size,  but  also  in 
form.  The  differences  are  not  the  result  of 
age,  nor  of  race,  but  are  adaptations  to 
different  functions,  the  nature  of  which, 
however,  is  not  yet  well  understood.  Among 
the  Termites  those  of  one  class  certainly  seem 
to  act  as  soldiers,  and  among  the  true  Ants 
also  some  have  comparatively  immense  heads 
and  powerful  jaws.  It  is  doubtful,  however, 
whether  they  form  a  real  army.  Bates 
observed  that  on  a  foraging  expedition  the 
large-headed  individuals  did  not  walk  in  the 


60  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

regular  ranks,  nor  on  the  return  did  they 
carry  any  of  the  booty,  but  marched  along  at 
the  side,  and  at  tolerably  regular  intervals, 
"  like  subaltern  officers  in  a  marching  regi- 
ment." He  is  disposed,  however,  to  ascribe 
to  them  a  much  humbler  function,  namely, 
to  serve  merely  "  as  indigestible  morsels  to 
the  ant  thrushes."  This,  I  confess,  seems  to 
me  improbable. 

Solomon  was,  so  far  as  we  yet  know,  quite 
correct  in  describing  Ants  as  having  "  neither 
guide,  overseer,  nor  ruler."  The  so-called 
Queens  are  really  Mothers.  Nevertheless  it 
is  true,  and  it  is  curious,  that  the  working 
Ants  and  Bees  always  turn  their  heads 
towards  the  Queen.  It  seems  as  if  the  sight 
of  her  gave  them  pleasure.  On  one  occasion, 
while  moving  some  Ants  from  one  nest  into 
another  for  exhibition  at  the  Royal  Institution, 
I  unfortunately  crushed  the  Queen  and  killed 
her.  The  others,  however,  did  not  desert  her, 
or  draw  her  out  as  they  do  dead  workers,  but 
on  the  contrary  carried  her  into  the  new  nest, 
and  subsequently  into  a  larger  one  with  which 
I  supplied  them,  congregating  round  her  for 


n  ON  ANIMAL  LIFE  61 

weeks  just  as  if  she  had  been  alive.  One 
could  hardly  help  fancying  that  they  were 
mourning  her  loss,  or  hoping  anxiously  for 
her  recovery. 

The  Communities  of  Ants  are  sometimes 
very  large,  numbering  even  up  to  500,000 
individuals;  and  it  is  a  lesson  to  us,  that  no 
one  has  ever  yet  seen  a  quarrel  between  any 
two  Ants  belonging  to  the  same  community. 
On  the  other  hand  it  must  be  admitted  that 
they  are  in  hostility,  not  only  with  most  other 
insects,  including  Ants  of  different  species, 
but  even  with  those  of  the  same  species  if 
belonging  to  different  communities.  I  have 
over  and  over  again  introduced  Ants  from 
one  of  my  nests  into  another  nest  of  the  same 
species,  and  they  were  invariably  attacked, 
seized  by  a  leg  or  an  antenna,  and  dragged 
out. 

It  is  evident  therefore  that  the  Ants  of 
each  community  all  recognise  one  another, 
which  is  very  remarkable.  But  more  than 
this,  I  several  times  divided  a  nest  into  two 
halves,  and  found  that  even  after  a  separation 
of  a  year  and  nine  months  they  recognised 


62  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

one  another,  and  were  perfectly  friendly; 
while  they  at  once  attacked  Ants  from  a 
different  nest,  although  of  the  same  species. 

It  has  been  suggested  that  the  Ants  of  each 
nest  have  some  sign  or  password  by  which 
they  recognise  one  another.  To  test  this  I 
made  some  insensible.  First  I  tried  chloro- 
form, but  this  was  fatal  to  them ;  and  as 
therefore  they  were  practically  dead,  I  did 
not  consider  the  test  satisfactory.  I  decided 
therefore  to  intoxicate  them.  This  was 
less  easy  than  I  had  expected.  None  of 
my  Ants  would  voluntarily  degrade  them- 
selves by  getting  drunk.  However,  I  got 
over  the  difficulty  by  putting  them  into 
whisky  for  a  few  moments.  I  took  fifty 
specimens,  twenty-five  from  one  nest  and 
twenty-five  from  another,  made  them  dead 
drunk,  marked  each  with  a  spot  of  paint,  and 
put  them  on  a  table  close  to  where  other  Ants 
from  one  of  the  nests  were  feeding.  The 
table  was  surrounded  as  usual  with  a  moat  of 
water  to  prevent  them  from  straying.  The 
Ants  which  were  feeding  soon  noticed  those 
which  I  had  made  drunk.  They  seemed  quite 


ii  ON   ANIMAL   LIFE  63 

astonished  to  find  their  comrades  in  such  a 
disgraceful  condition,  and  as  much  at  a  loss 
to  know  what  to  do  with  their  drunkards  as 
we  are.  After  a  while,  however,  to  cut  my 
story  short,  they  carried  them  all  away :  the 
strangers  they  took  to  the  edge  of  the  moat 
and  dropped  into  the  water,  while  they  bore 
their  friends  home  into  the  nest,  where  by 
degrees  they  slept  off  the  effects  of  the  spirit. 
Thus  it  is  evident  that  they  know  their  friends 
even  when  incapable  of  giving  any  sign  or 
password. 

This  little  experiment  also  shows  that  they 
help  comrades  in  distress.  If  a  Wolf  or  a  Rook 
be  ill  or  injured,  we  are  told  that  it  is  driven 
away  or  even  killed  by  its  comrades.  Not  so 
with  Ants.  For  instance,  in  one  of  my  nests 
an  unfortunate  Ant,  in  emerging  from  the 
chrysalis  skin,  injured  her  legs  so  much  that 
she  lay  on  her  back  quite  helpless.  For  three 
months,  however,  she  was  carefully  fed  and 
tended  by  the  other  Ants.  In  another  case 
an  Ant  in  the  same  manner  had  injured  her 
antennae.  I  watched  her  also  carefully  to  see 
what  would  happen.  For  some  days  she  did 


64  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

not  leave  the  nest.  At  last  one  day  she 
ventured  outside,  and  after  a  while  met  a 
stranger  Ant  of  the  same  species,  but  be- 
longing to  another  nest,  by  whom  she  was 
at  once  attacked.  I  tried  to  separate  them, 
but  whether  by  her  enemy,  or  perhaps  by  my 
well-meant  but  clumsy  kindness,  she  was 
evidently  much  hurt  and  lay  helplessly  on  her 
side.  Several  other  Ants  passed  her  without 
taking  any  notice,  but  soon  one  came  up, 
examined  her  carefully  with  her  antennae,  and 
carried  her  off  tenderly  to  the  nest.  No  one, 
I  think,  who  saw  it  could  have  denied  to  that 
Ant  one  attribute  of  humanity,  the  quality  of 
kindness. 

The  existence  of  such  communities  as  those 
of  Ants  or  Bees  implies,  no  doubt,  some  power 
of  communication,  but  the  amount  is  still  a 
matter  of  doubt.  It  is  well  known  that  if  one 
Bee  or  Ant  discovers  a  store  of  food,  others 
soon  find  their  way  to  it.  This,  however, 
does  not  prove  much.  It  makes  all  the 
difference  whether  they  are  brought  or  sent. 
If  they  merely  accompany  on  her  return  a 
companion  who  has  brought  a  store  of  food, 


ii  ON    ANIMAL   LIFE  65 

it  does  not  imply  much.  To  test  this,  there- 
fore, I  made  several  experiments.  For  in- 
stance, one  cold  day  my  Ants  were  almost  all 
in  their  nests.  One  only  was  out  hunting 
and  about  six  feet  from  home.  I  took  a  dead 
bluebottle  fly,  pinned  it  on  to  a  piece  of  cork, 
and  put  it  down  just  in  front  of  her.  She  at 
once  tried  to  carry  off  the  fly,  but  to  her  sur- 
prise found  it  immovable.  She  tugged  and 
tugged,  first  one  way  and  then  another  for 
about  twenty  minutes,  and  then  went  straight 
off  to  the  nest.  During  that  time  not  a  single 
Ant  had  come  out ;  in  fact  she  was  the  only 
Ant  of  that  nest  out  at  the  time.  She  went 
straight  in,  but  in  a  few  seconds  —  less  than 
half  a  minute,  —  came  out  again  with  no  less 
than  twelve  friends,  who  trooped  off  with  her, 
and  eventually  tore  up  the  dead  fly,  carrying 
it  off  in  triumph. 

Now  the  first  Ant  took  nothing  home  with 
her ;  she  must  therefore  somehow  have  made 
her  friends  understand  that  she  had  found 
some  food,  and  wanted  them  to  come  and  help 
her  to  secure  it.  In  all  such  cases,  however, 
so  far  as  my  experience  goes,  the  Ants  brought 


66  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

their  friends,  and  some   of   my   experiments 
indicated  that  they  are  unable  to  send  them. 

Certain  species  of  Ants,  again,  make  slaves 
of  others,  as  Huber  first  observed.  If  a  col- 
ony of  the  slave-making  Ants  is  changing  the 
nest,  a  matter  which  is  left  to  the  discretion  of 
the  slaves,  the  latter  carry  their  mistresses  to 
their  new  home.  Again,  if  I  uncovered  one 
of  my  nests  of  the  Fuscous  Ant  (Formica 
fusca),  they  all  began  running  about  in  search 
of  some  place  of  refuge.  If  now  I  covered  over 
one  small  part  of  the  nest,  after  a  while  some 
Ant  discovered  it.  In  such  a  case,  however,  the 
brave  little  insect  never  remained  there,  she 
came  out  in  search  of  her  friends,  and  the 
first  one  she  met  she  took  up  in  her  jaws, 
threw  over  her  shoulder  (their  way  of  carry- 
ing friends),  and  took  into  the  covered  part ; 
then  both  came  out  again,  found  two  more 
friends  and  brought  them  in,  the  same  ma- 
noeuvre being  repeated  until  the  whole  commu- 
nity was  in  a  place  of  safety.  This  I  think 
says  much  for  their  public  spirit,  but  seems  to 
prove  that,  in  F.  fusca  at  least,  the  powers  of 
communication  are  but  limited. 


ii  ON   ANIMAL   LIFE  67 

One  kind  of  slave-making  Ant  has  be- 
come so  completely  dependent  on  their  slaves, 
that  even  if  provided  with  food  they  will  die 
of  hunger,  unless  there  is  a  slave  to  put  it 
into  their  mouth.  I  found,  however,  that 
they  would  thrive  very  well  if  supplied  with 
a  slave  for  an  hour  or  so  once  a  week  to  clean 
and  feed  them. 

But  in  many  cases  the  community  does  not 
consist  of  Ants  only.  They  have  domestic 
animals,  and  indeed  it  is  not  going  too  far  to 
say  that  they  have  domesticated  more  animals 
than  we  have.  Of  these  the  most  important 
are  Aphides.  Some  species  keep  Aphides  on 
trees  and  bushes,  others  collect  root-feeding 
Aphides  into  their  nests.  They  serve  as  cows 
to  the  Ants,  which  feed  on  the  honey-dew 
secreted  by  the  Aphides.  Not  only,  more- 
over, do  the  Ants  protect  the  Aphides  them- 
selves, but  collect  their  eggs  in  autumn, 
and  tend  them  carefully  through  the  winter, 
ready  for  the  next  spring.  Many  other  insects 
are  also  domesticated  by  Ants,  and  some  of 
them,  from  living  constantly  underground, 


68  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

have  completely  lost  their  eyes  and  become 
quite  blind. 

But  I  must  not  let  myself  be  carried  away 
by  this  fascinating  subject,  which  I  have 
treated  more  at  length  in  another  work.1  I 
will  only  say  that  though  their  intelligence 
is  no  doubt  limited,  still  I  do  not  think  that 
any  one  who  has  studied  the  life-history  of 
Ants  can  draw  any  fundamental  line  of  sep- 
aration between  instinct  and  reason. 

When  we  see  a  community  of  Ants  work- 
ing together  in  perfect  harmony,  it  is  impos- 
sible not  to  ask  ourselves  how  far  they  are 
mere  exquisite  automatons ;  how  far  they  are 
conscious  beings  ?  When  we  watch  an 
ant-hill  tenanted  by  thousands  of  industrious 
inhabitants,  excavating  chambers,  forming 
tunnels,  making  roads,  guarding  their  home, 
gathering  food,  feeding  the  young,  tending 
their  domestic  animals  —  each  one  fulfilling 
its  duties  industriously,  and  without  con- 
fusion,—  it  is  difficult  altogether  to  deny 
to  them  the  gift  of  reason ;  and  all  our 

1  Ants,  Bees,  and  Wasps. 


ii  ON   ANIMAL   LIFE  .  69 

recent  observations  tend  to  confirm  the 
opinion  that  their  mental  powers  differ 
from  those  of  men,  not  so  much  in  kind 
as  in  degree. 


CHAPTER  III 

ON  ANIMAL  LIFE  —  continued 


An  organic  being  is  a  microcosm  —  a  little  universe, 
formed  of  a  host  of  self-propagating  organisms,  inconceiv- 
ably minute  and  numerous  as  the  stars  of  heaven. 

DARWIN. 


CHAPTER  TIT 

ON  ANIMAL  LIFE  —  continued. 

WE  constantly  speak  of  animals  as  free.  A 
fish,  says  Ruskin,  "  is  much  freer  than  a  Man ; 
and  as  to  a  fly,  it  is  a  black  incarnation  of 
freedom."  It  is  pleasant  to  think  of  anything 
as  free,  but  in  this  case  the  idea  is,  I  fear,  to 
a  great  extent  erroneous.  Young  animals  may 
frolic  and  play,  but  older  ones  take  life  very 
seriously.  About  the  habits  of  fish  and  flies, 
indeed,  as  yet  we  know  very  little.  Any  one, 
however,  who  will  watch  animals  will  soon 
satisfy  himself  how  diligently  they  work. 
Even  when  they  seem  to  be  idling  over  flowers, 
or  wandering  aimlessly  about,  they  are  in  truth 
diligently  seeking  for  food,  or  collecting 
materials  for  nests.  The  industry  of  Bees  is 
proverbial.  When  collecting  honey  or  pollen 

73 


74  THE  BEAUTIES  OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

they  often  visit  over  twenty  flowers  in  a 
minute,  keeping  constantly  to  one  species, 
without  yielding  a  moment's  dalliance  to  any 
more  sweet  or  lovely  tempter.  Ants  fully 
deserve  the  commendation  of  Solomon. 
Wasps  have  not  the  same  reputation  for  in- 
dustry ;  but  I  have  watched  them  from  before 
four  in  the  morning  till  dark  at  night  work- 
ing like  animated  machines  without  a  mo- 
ment's rest  or  intermission.  Sundays  and 
Bank  Holidays  are  all  the  same  to  them. 
Again,  Birds  have  their  own  gardens  and 
farms  from  which  they  do  not  wander,  and 
within  which  they  will  tolerate  no  interfer- 
ence. Their  ideas  of  the  rights  of  property 
are  far  stricter  than  those  of  some  statesmen. 
As  to  freedom,  they  have  their  daily  duties  as 
much  as  a  mechanic  in  a  mill  or  a  clerk  in  an 
office.  They  suffer  under  alarms,  moreover, 
from  which  we  are  happily  free.  Mr.  Galton 
believes  that  the  life  of  wild  animals  is  very 
anxious.  "  From  my  own  recollection,"  he 
says,  "I  believe  that  every  antelope  in  South 
Africa  has  to  run  for  its  life  every  one  or  two 
days  upon  an  average,  and  that  he  starts  or 


in  ON  ANIMAL  LIFE  75 

gallops  under  the  influence  of  a  false  alarm 
many  times  in  a  day.  Those  who  have 
crouched  at  night  by  the  side  of  pools  in  the 
desert,  in  order  to  have  a  shot  at  the  beasts 
that  frequent  it,  see  strange  scenes  of  animal 
life  ;  how  the  creatures  gambol  at  one  moment 
and  fight  at  another ;  how  a  herd  suddenly 
halts  in  strained  attention,  and  then  breaks 
into  a  maddened  rush  as  one  of  them  becomes 
conscious  of  the  stealthy  movements  or  rank 
scent  of  a  beast  of  prey.  Now  this  hourly  life- 
and-death  excitement  is  a  keen  delight  to 
most  wild  creatures,  but  must  be  peculiarly 
distracting  to  the  comfort-loving  temperament 
of  others.  The  latter  are  alone  suited  to 
endure  the  crass  habits  and  dull  routine  of 
domesticated  life.  Suppose  that  an  animal 
which  has  been  captured  and  half-tamed, 
received  ill-usage  from  his  captors,  either  as 
punishment  or  through  mere  brutality,  and 
that  he  rushed  indignantly  into  the  forest 
with  his  ribs  aching  from  blows  and  stones. 
If  a  comfort-loving  animal,  he  will  probably 
be  no  gainer  by  the  change,  more  serious 
alarms  and  no  less  ill-usage  awaits  him  :  he 


76  THE  BEAUTIES  OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

hears  the  roar  of  the  wild  beasts,  and  the 
headlong  gallop  of  the  frightened  herds,  and 
he  finds  the  buttings  and  the  kicks  of  other 
animals  harder  to  endure  than  the  blows  from 
which  he  fled :  he  has  peculiar  disadvantages 
from  being  a  stranger ;  the  herds  of  his  own 
species  which  he  seeks  for  companionship  con- 
stitute so  many  cliques,  into  which  he  can 
only  find  admission  by  more  fighting  with 
their  strongest  members  than  he  has  spirit  to 
undergo.  As  a  set-off  against  these  miseries, 
the  freedom  of  savage  life  has  no  charms  for 
his  temperament ;  so  the  end  of  it  is,  that 
with  a  heavy  heart  he  turns  back  to  the 
habitation  he  had  quitted." 

But  though  animals  may  not  be  free,  I 
hope  and  believe  that  they  are  happy.  Dr. 
Hudson,  an  admirable  observer,  assures  us 
with  confidence  that  the  struggle  for  exist- 
ence leaves  them  much  leisure  and  famous 
spirits.  "  In  the  animal  world,"  he  exclaims,1 
"  what  happiness  reigns  !  What  ease,  grace, 
beauty,  leisure,  and  content !  Watch  these 
living  specks  as  they  glide  through  their 

1  Address  to  Microscopical  Society,  1890. 


in  ON  ANIMAL  LIFE  77 

forests  of  algae,  all  '  without  hurry  and  care/ 
as  if  their  '  span  -  long  lives  '  really  could 
endure  for  the  thousand  years  that  the  old 
catch  pines  for.  Here  is  no  greedy  jostling 
at  the  banquet  that  nature  has  spread  for 
them ;  no  dread  of  each  other ;  but  a  leisurely 
inspection  of  the  field,  that  shows  neither  the 
pressure  of  hunger  nor  the  dread  of  an 
enemy. 

"  '  To  labour  and  to  be  content '  (that  <  sweet 
life '  of  the  son  of  Sirach)  —  to  be  equally  ready 
for  an  enemy  or  a  friend  —  to  trust  in  them- 
selves alone,  to  show  a  brave  unconcern  for  the 
morrow,  all  these  are  the  admirable  points  of 
a  character  almost  universal  among  animals, 
and  one  that  would  lighten  many  a  heart 
were  it  more  common  among  men.  That 
character  is  the  direct  result  of  the  golden 
law  '  If  one  will  not  work,  neither  let  him 
eat '  ;  a  law  whose  stern  kindness,  unflinch- 
ingly applied,  has  produced  whole  nations  of 
living  creatures,  without  a  pauper  in  their 
ranks,  flushed  with  health,  alert,  resolute, 
self-reliant,  and  singularly  happy." 

It  has  often  been  said  that  Man  is  the  only 


78  THE  BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

animal  gifted  with  the  power  of  enjoying  a 
joke,  but  if  animals  do  not  laugh,  at  any 
rate  they  sometimes  play.  We  are,  indeed, 
apt  perhaps  to  credit  them  with  too  much 
of  our  own  attributes  and  emotions,  but  we 
can  hardly  be  mistaken  in  supposing  that 
they  enjoy  certain  scents  and  sounds.  It  is 
difficult  to  separate  the  games  of  kittens 
and  lambs  from  those  of  children.  Our 
countryman  Gould  long  ago  described  the 
"  amusements  or  sportive  exercises  "  which 
he  had  observed  among  Ants.  Forel  was  at 
first  incredulous,  but  finally  confirmed  these 
statements ;  and,  speaking  of  certain  tropical 
Ants,  Bates  says  "  the  conclusion  that  they 
were  engaged  in  play  was  irresistible." 


SLEEP 

We  share  with  other  animals  the  great 
blessing  of  Sleep,  nature's  soft  nurse,  "  the 
mantle  that  covers  thought,  the  food  that 
appeases  hunger,  the  drink  that  quenches 
thirst,  the  fire  that  warms  cold,  the  cold  that 


in  ON  ANIMAL   LIFE  79 

moderates  heat,  the  coin  that  purchases  all 
things,  the  balance  and  weight  that  equals  the 
shepherd  with  the  king,  and  the  simple  with 
the  wise."  Some  animals  dream  as  we  do  ; 
Dogs,  for  instance,  evidently  dream  of  the 
chase.  With  the  lower  animals  which  cannot 
shut  their  eyes  it  is,  however,  more  difficult 
to  make  sure  whether  they  are  awake  or 
asleep.  I  have  often  noticed  insects  at  night, 
even  when  it  was  warm  and  light,  behave 
just  as  if  they  were  asleep,  and  take  no  notice 
of  objects  which  would  certainly  have  startled 
them  in  the  day.  The  same  thing  has  also 
been  observed  in  the  case  of  fish. 

But  why  should  we  sleep  ?  What  a  remark- 
able thing  it  is  that  one-third  of  our  life  should 
be  passed  in  unconsciousness.  "Half  of  our 
days,"  says  Sir  T.  Browne,  "  we  pass  in  the 
shadow  of  the  earth,  and  the  brother  of  death 
extracteth  a  third  part  of  our  lives."  The 
obvious  suggestion  is  that  we  require  rest. 
But  this  does  not  fully  meet  the  case.  In 
sleep  the  mind  is  still  awake,  and  lives  a  life 
of  its  own :  our  thoughts  wander,  uncon- 
trolled, by  the  will.  The  mind,  therefore,  is 


80  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

not  necessarily  itself  at  rest ;  and  yet  we  all 
know  how  it  is  refreshed  by  sleep. 

But  though  animals  sleep,  many  of  them 
are  nocturnal  in  their  habits.  Humboldt  gives 
a  vivid  description  of  night  in  a  Brazilian 
forest. 

"  Everything  passed  tranquilly  till  eleven 
at  night,  and  then  a  noise  so  terrible  arose  in 
the  neighbouring  forest  that  it  was  almost 
impossible  to  close  our  eyes.  Amid  the  cries 
of  so  many  wild  beasts  howling  at  once  the 
Indians  discriminated  such  only  as  were  (at 
intervals)  heard  separately.  These  were  the 
little  soft  cries  of  the  sapajous,  the  moans  of 
the  alouate  apes,  the  howlings  of  the  jaguar 
and  couguar,  the  peccary  and  the  sloth,  and 
the  cries  of  (many)  birds.  When  the  jaguars 
approached  the  skirt  of  the  forest  our  dog, 
which  till  then  had  never  ceased  barking, 
began  to  howl  and  seek  for  shelter  beneath  our 
hammocks.  Sometimes,  after  a  long  silence, 
the  cry  of  the  tiger  came  from  the  tops  of  the 
trees ;  and  then  it  was  followed  by  the  sharp 
and  long  whistling  of  the  monkeys,  which 
appeared  to  nee  from  the  danger  which 


in  ON  ANIMAL  LIFE  81 

threatened  them.  We  heard  the  same  noises 
repeated  during  the  course  of  whole  months 
whenever  the  forest  approached  the  bed  of  the 
river. 

"  When  the  natives  are  interrogated  on  the 
causes  of  the  tremendous  noise  made  by 
the  beasts  of  the  forest  at  certain  hours  of 
the  night,  the  answer  is,  they  are  keeping  the 
feast  of  the  full  moon.  I  believe  this  agita- 
tion is  most  frequently  the  effect  of  some  con- 
flict that  has  arisen  in  the  depths  of  the 
forest.  The  jaguars,  for  instance,  pursue  the 
peccaries  and  the  tapirs,  which,  having  no 
defence,  flee  in  close  troops,  and  break  down 
the  bushes  they  find  in  their  way.  Terrified 
at  this  struggle,  the  timid  and  distrustful 
monkeys  answer,  from  the  tops  of  the  trees, 
the  cries  of  the  large  animals.  They  awaken 
the  birds  that  live  in  society,  and  by  degrees 
the  whole  assembly  is  in  commotion.  It  is 
not  always  in  a  fine  moonlight,  but  more  par- 
ticularly at  the  time  of  a  storm  of  violent 
showers,  that  this  tumult  takes  place  among 
the  wild  beasts.  '  May  heaven  grant  them  a 
quiet  night  and  repose,  and  us  also !  '  said  the 


82  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

monk  who  accompanied  us  to  the  Rio  Negro, 
when,  sinking  with  fatigue,  he  assisted  in 
arranging  our  accommodation  for  the  night." 

Life  is  indeed  among  animals  a  struggle  for 
existence,  and  in  addition  to  the  more  usual 
weapons  —  teeth  and  claws  —  we  find  in  some 
animals  special  and  peculiar  means  of  offence 
and  defence. 

If  we  had  not  been  so  familiarised  with  the 
fact,  the  possession  of  poison  might  well  seem 
a  wonderful  gift.  That  a  fluid,  harmless  in 
one  animal  itself,  should  yet  prove  so  deadly 
when  transferred  to  others,  is  certainly  very 
remarkable ;  and  though  the  venom  of  the 
Cobra  or  the  Rattlesnake  appeal  perhaps  more 
effectively  to  our  imagination,  we  have  con- 
clusive evidence  of  concentrated  poison  even 
in  the  bite  of  a  midge,  which  may  remain  for 
days  perceptible.  The  sting  of  a  Bee  or  Wasp, 
though  somewhat  similar  in  its  effect,  is  a 
totally  different  organ,  being  a  modified  ovi- 
positor. Some  species  of  Ants  do  not  sting 
in  the  ordinary  sense,  but  eject  their  acrid 
poison  to  a  distance  of  several  inches. 

Another    very  remarkable    weapon   is  the 


in  ON   ANIMAL   LIFE  83 

electric  battery  of  certain  Eels,  of  the  Electric 
Cat  Fish,  and  the  Torpedoes,  one  of  which  is 
said  to  be  able  to  discharge  an  amount  of 
electricity  sufficient  to  kill  a  Man. 

Some  of  the  Medusae  and  other  Zoophytes 
are  armed  by  millions  of  minute  organs 
known  as  "  thread  cells."  Each  consists  of  a 
cell,  within  which  a  firm,  elastic  thread  is 
tightly  coiled.  The  moment  the  Medusa 
touches  its  prey  the  cells  burst  and  the 
threads  spring  out.  Entering  the  flesh  as 
they  do  by  myriads,  they  prove  very  effective 
weapons. 

The  ink  of  the  Sepia  has  passed  into  a  proverb. 
The  animal  possesses  a  store  of  dark  fluid, 
which,  if  attacked,  it  at  once  ejects,  and  thus 
escapes  under  cover  of  the  cloud  thus  created. 

The  so-called  Bombardier  Beetles,  when  at- 
tacked, discharge  at  the  enemy,  from  the 
hinder  part  of  their  body,  an  acrid  fluid  which, 
as  soon  as  it  comes  in  contact  with  air,  ex- 
plodes with  a  sound  resembling  a  miniature 
gun.  Westwood  mentions,  on  the  authority 
of  Burchell,  that  on  one  occasion,  "whilst 
resting  for  the  night  on  the  banks  of  one  of 


84  THE   BEAUTIES 'OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

the  large  South  American  rivers,  he  went  out 
with  a  lantern  to  make  an  astronomical  obser- 
vation, accompanied  by  one  of  his  black  ser- 
vant boys ;  and  as  they  were  proceeding, 
their  attention  was  directed  to  numerous 
beetles  running  about  upon  the  shore,  which, 
when  captured,  proved  to  be  specimens  of  a 
large  species  of  Brachinus.  On  being  seized 
they  immediately  began  to  play  off  their  artil- 
lery, burning  and  staining  the  flesh  to  such  a 
degree  that  only  a  few  specimens  could  be 
captured  with  the  naked  hand,  and  leaving  a 
mark  which  remained  a  considerable  time. 
Upon  observing  the  whitish  vapour  with 
which  the  explosions  were  accompanied,  the 
negro  exclaimed  in  his  broken  English,  with  evi- 
dent surprise, ' Ah,  massa,  they  make  smoke!' ' 
Many  other  remarkable  illustrations  might 
be  quoted;  as  for  instance  the  web  of  the 
Spider,  the  pit  of  the  Ant  Lion,  the  mephitic 
odour  of  the  Skunk. 

SENSES 

We   generally    attribute   to    animals    five 
senses  more  or  less  resembling  our  own.     But 


in  ON  ANIMAL   LIFE  85 

even  as  regards  our  own  senses  we  really 
know  or  understand  very  little.  Take  the 
question  of  colour.  The  rainbow  is  commonly 
said  to  consist  of  seven  colours  —  red,  orange, 
yellow,  green,  blue,  indigo,  and  violet. 

But  it  is  now  known  that  all  our  colour 
sensations  are  mixtures  of  three  simple  col- 
ours, red,  green,  and  violet.  We  are,  how- 
ever, absolutely  ignorant  how  we  perceive 
these  colours.  Thomas  Young  suggested 
that  we  have  three  different  systems  of  nerve 
fibres,  and  Helmholtz  regards  this  as  "  a  not 
improbable  supposition";  but  so  far  as  mi- 
croscopical examination  is  concerned,  there  is 
no  evidence  whatever  for  it. 

Or  take  again  the  sense  of  Hearing.  The 
vibrations  of  the  air  no  doubt  play  upon  the 
drum  of  the  ear,  and  the  waves  thus  produced 
are  conducted  through  a  complex  chain  of 
small  bones  to  the  fenestra  ovalis  and  so  to 
the  inner  ear  or  labyrinth.  But  beyond  this 
all  is  uncertainty.  The  labyrinth  consists 
mainly  of  two  parts  (1)  the  cochlea,  and  (2) 
the  semicircular  canals,  which  are  three  in 
number,  standing  at  right  angles  to  one 


86  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

another.  It  has  been  supposed  that  they 
enable  us  to  maintain  the  equilibrium  of  the 
body,  but  no  satisfactory  explanation  of  their 
function  has  yet  been  given.  In  the  cochlea, 
Corti  discovered  a  remarkable  organ  consist- 
ing of  some  four  thousand  complex  arches, 
which  increase  regularly  in  length  and  dimin- 
ish in  height.  They  are  connected  at  one  end 
with  the  fibres  of  the  auditory  nerve,  and 
Helmholtz  has  suggested  that  the  waves  of 
sound  play  on  them,  like  the  fingers  of  a  per- 
former on  the  keys  of  a  piano,  each  separate 
arch  corresponding  to  a  different  sound.  We 
thus  obtain  a  glimpse,  though  but  a  glimpse, 
of  the  manner  in  which  perhaps  we  hear ;  but 
when  we  pass  on  to  the  senses  of  smell  and 
taste,  all  we  know  is  that  the  extreme  nerve 
fibres  terminate  in  certain  cells  which  differ 
in  form  from  those  of  the  general  surface ; 
but  in  what  manner  the  innumerable  differ- 
ences of  taste  or  smell  are  communicated  to 
the  brain,  we  are  absolutely  ignorant. 

If  then  v;o  know  so  little  about  ourselves, 
no  wonder  that  with  reference  to  other  ani- 
mals our  ignorance  is  extreme. 


in  ON   ANIMAL   LIFE  87 

We  are  too  apt  to  suppose  that  the  senses 
of  animals  must  closely  resemble,  and  be  con- 
fined to  ours. 

No  one  can  doubt  that  the  sensations  of 
other  animals  differ  in  many  ways  from  ours. 
Their  organs  are  sometimes  constructed  on 
different  principles,  and  situated  in  very  un- 
expected places.  There  are  animals  which 
have  eyes  on  their  backs,  ears  in  their  legs, 
and  sing  through  their  sides. 

We  all  know  that  the  senses  of  animals  are 
in  many  cases  much  more  acute  than  ours,  as 
for  instance  the  power  of  scent  in  the  dog,  of 
sight  in  the  eagle.  Moreover,  our  eye  is 
much  more  sensitive  to  some  colours  than  to 
others  ;  least  so  to  crimson,  then  successively 
to  red,  orange,  yellow,  blue,  and  green ;  the 
sensitiveness  for  green  being  as  much  as  750 
times  as  great  as  for  red.  This  alone  may 
make  objects  appear  of  very  different  colours 
to  different  animals. 

Nor  is  the  difference  one  of  degree  merely. 
The  rainbow,  as  we  see  it,  consists  of  seven 
colours  —  red,  orange,  yellow,  green,  blue, 
indigo,  and  violet.  But  though  the  red  and 


88  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

violet  are  the  limits  of  the  visible  spectrum, 
they  are  not  the  limits  of  the  spectrum  itself, 
there  are  rays,  though  invisible  to  us,  beyond 
the  red  at  the  one  end,  and  beyond  the  violet 
at  the  other :  the  existence  of  the  ultra  red 
can  be  demonstrated  by  the  thermometer ; 
while  the  ultra  violet  are  capable  of  taking 
a  photograph.  But  though  the  red  and  violet 
are  respectively  the  limits  of  our  vision,  I 
have  shown *  by  experiments  which  have  been 
repeated  and  confirmed  by  other  naturalists, 
that  some  of  the  lower  animals  are  capable 
of  perceiving  the  ultra-violet  rays,  which  to 
us  are  invisible.  It  is  an  interesting  question 
whether  these  rays  may  not  produce  on  them 
the  impression  of  a  new  colour,  or  colours, 
differing  from  any  of  those  known  to  us. 

So  again  with  hearing,  not  only  may 
animals  in  some  cases  hear  better  than  we 
do,  but  sounds  which  are  beyond  the  reach 
of  our  ears,  may  be  audible  to  theirs.  Even 
among  ourselves  the  power  of  hearing  shrill 
sounds  is  greater  in  some  persons  than  in 
others.  Sound,  as  we  know,  is  produced  by 

1  Ants,  Sees,  and  Wasps,  and  The  Senses  of  Animals. 


m  ON  ANIMAL  LIFE  89 

vibration  of  the  air  striking  on  the  drum  of 
the  ear,  and  the  fewer  are  the  vibrations  in 
a  second,  the  deeper  is  the  sound,  which 
becomes  shriller  and  shriller  as  the  waves  of 
sound  become  more  rapid.  In  human  ears 
the  limits  of  hearing  are  reached  when  about 
35,000  vibrations  strike  the  drum  of  the  ear 
in  a  second. 

Whatever  the  explanation  of  the  gift  of 
hearing  in  ourselves  may  be,  different  plans 
seem  to  be  adopted  in  the  case  of  other 
animals.  In  many  Crustacea  and  Insects 
there  are  flattened  hairs  each  connected  with 
a  nerve  fibre,  and  so  constituted  as  to  vibrate 
in  response  to  particular  notes.  In  others 
the  ear  cavity  contains  certain  minute  solid 
bodies,  known  as  otoliths,  which  in  the  same 
way  play  upon  the  nerve  fibres.  Sometimes 
these  are  secreted  by  the  walls  of  the  cavity 
itself,  but  certain  Crustacea  have  acquired  the 
remarkable  habit  of  selecting  after  each 
moult  suitable  particles  of  sand,  which  they 
pick  up  with  their  pincers  and  insert  into 
their  ears. 

Many     insects,     besides     the     two    large 


90  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

" compound"  eyes  one  on  each  side  of  the 
head,  have  between  them  three  small  ones, 
known  as  the  "  ocelli,"  arranged  in  a  triangle. 
The  structure  of  these  two  sets  of  eyes  is 
quite  different.  The  ocelli  appear  to  see  as  our 
eyes  do.  The  lens  throws  an  inverted  image 
on  the  back  of  the  eye,  so  that  with  these 
eyes  they  must  see  everything  reversed,  as  we 
ourselves  really  do,  though  long  practice 
enables  us  to  correct  the  impression.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  compound  eyes  consist  of  a 
number  of  facets,  in  some  species  as  many  as 
20,000  in  each  eye,  and  the  prevailing 
impression  among  entomologists  now  is  that 
each  facet  receives  the  impression  of  one 
pencil  of  rays,  that  in  fact  the  image 
formed  in  a  compound  eye  is  a  sort  of 
mosaic.  In  that  case,  vision  by  means  of 
these  eyes  must  be  direct ;  and  it  is  indeed 
difficult  to  understand  how  an  insect  can 
obtain  a  correct  impression  when  it  looks  at 
the  world  with  five  eyes,  three  of  which  see 
everything  reversed,  while  the  other  two  see 
things  the  right  way  up ! 

On    the    other    hand,    some    regard    each 


in  ON  ANIMAL  LIFE  91 

facet  as  an  independent  eye,  in  which  case 
many  insects  realise  the  epigram  of  Plato  — 

Thou  lookest  on.  the  stars,  my  love, 

Ah,  would  that  I  could  be 
Yon  starry  skies  with  thousand  eyes, 

That  I  might  look  on  thee ! 

Even  so,  therefore,  we  only  substitute  one 
difficulty  for  another. 

But  this  is  not  all.  We  have  not  only  no 
proof  that  animals  are  confined  to  our  five 
senses,  but  there  are  strong  reasons  for  believ- 
ing that  this  is  not  the  case. 

In  the  first  place,  many  animals  have 
organs  which  from  their  position,  structure, 
and  rich  supply  of  nerves,  are  evidently 
organs  of  sense ;  and  yet  which  do  not 
appear  to  be  adapted  to  any  one  of  our  five 
senses. 

As  already  mentioned,  the  limits  of  hearing 
are  reached  when  about  35,000  vibrations 
of  the  air  strike  on  the  drums  of  our  ears. 
Light,  as  was  first  conclusively  demonstrated 
by  our  great  countryman  Young,  is  the  im- 
pression produced  by  vibration  of  the  ether 


92  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

on  the  retina  of  the  eye.  When  700  millions 
of  millions  of  vibrations  strike  the  eye  in  a 
second,  we  see  violet ;  and  the  colour  changes 
as  the  number  diminishes,  400  millions  of 
millions  giving  us  the  impression  of  red. 

Between  35  thousand  and  400  millions  of 
millions  the  interval  is  immense,  and  it  is 
obvious  that  there  might  be  any  number  of 
sensations.  When  we  consider  how  greatly 
animals  differ  from  us,  alike  in  habits  and 
structure,  is  it  not  possible,  nay,  more,  is  it 
not  likely  that  some  of  these  problematical 
organs  are  the  seats  of  senses  unknown  to  us, 
and  give  rise  to  sensations  of  which  we  have 
no  conception  ? 

In  addition  to  the  capacity  for  receiving 
and  perceiving,  some  animals  have  the  faculty 
of  emitting  light.  In  our  country  the  glow- 
worm is  the  most  familiar  case,  though  some 
other  insects  and  worms  have,  at  any  rate 
under  certain  conditions,  the  same  power,  and 
it  is  possible  that  many  others  are  really  lumi- 
nous, though  with  light  which  is  invisible  to 
us.  In  warmer  climates  the  Fire-fly,  Lan- 
thorn-fly,  and  many  other  insects,  shine  with 


in  ON  ANIMAL  LIFE  93 

much  greater  brilliance,  and  in  these  cases  the 
glow  seems  to  be  a  real  love-light,  like  the 
lamp  of  Hero. 

Many  small  marine  animals,  Medusae, 
Crustacea,  Worms,  etc.,  are  also  brilliantly 
luminous  at  night.  Deep-sea  animals  are 
endowed  also  in  many  cases  with  special 
luminous  organs,  to  which  I  shall  refer 
again. 

SENSE    OF    DIRECTION 

It  has  been  supposed  that  animals  possess 
also  what  has  been  called  a  Sense  of  Direc- 
tion. Many  interesting  cases  are  on  record  of 
animals  finding  their  way  home  after  being 
taken  a  considerable  distance.  To  account 
for  this  fact  it  has  been  suggested  that 
animals  possess  a  sense  with  which  we  are 
not  endowed,  or  of  which,  at  any  rate,  we 
possess  only  a  trace.  The  homing  instinct  of 
the  pigeon  has  also  been  ascribed  to  the  same 
faculty.  My  brother  Alfred,  however,  who 
has  paid  much  attention  to  pigeons,  informs 
me  that  they  are  never  taken  any  great  dis- 


94  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

tance  at  once  ;  but  if  they  are  intended  to 
take  a  long  flight,  they  are  trained  to  do  so 
by  stages. 

Darwin  suggested  that  it  would  be  inter- 
esting to  test  the  case  by  taking  animals  in 
a  close  box,  and  then  whirling  them  round 
rapidly  before  letting  them  out.  This  is  in 
fact  done  with  cats  in  some  parts  of  France, 
when  the  family  migrates,  and  is  considered 
the  only  way  of  preventing  the  cat  from  re- 
turning to  the  old  home.  Fabre  has  tried 
the  same  thing  with  some  wild  Bees  (Chali- 
codoma).  He  took  some,  marked  them  on 
the  back  with  a  spot  of  white,  and  put  them 
into  a  bag.  He  then  carried  them  a  quarter 
of  a  mile,  stopping  at  a  point  where  an  old 
cross  stands  by  the  wayside,  and  whirled  the 
bag  rapidly  round  his  head.  While  he  was 
doing  so  a  good  woman  came  by,  who  seemed 
not  a  little  surprised  to  find  the  Professor  sol- 
emnly whirling  a  black  bag  round  his  head 
in  front  of  the  cross ;  and,  he  fears,  suspected 
him  of  Satanic  practices.  He  then  carried 
his  Bees  a  mile  and  a  half  in  the  opposite 
direction  and  let  them  go.  Three  out  of 


TIT  ON   ANIMAL   LIFE  95 

ten  found  their  way  home.  He  tried  the 
same  experiment  several  times,  in  one  case 
taking  them  a  little  over  two  miles.  On 
an  average  about  a  third  of  the  Bees  found 
their  way  home.  "  La  demonstration,"  says 
Fabre,  "  est  suffisante.  Ni  les  mouvements 
enchevetres  d'une  rotation  comme  je  1'ai  de- 
crite ;  ni  1'obstacle  de  collines  a  franchir  et  de 
bois  a  traverser  ;  ni  les  embuches  d'une  voie 
qui  s'avance,  retrograde,  et  revient  par  un 
ample  circuit,  ne  peuvent  troubler  les  Chalico- 
domes  depayses  et  les  empecher  de  revenir 
au  nid." 

I  must  say,  however,  that  I  am  not 
convinced.  In  the  first  place,  the  distances 
were  I  think  too  short ;  and  in  the  second, 
though  it  is  true  that  some  of  the  Bees  found 
their  way  home,  nearly  two-thirds  failed  to 
do  so.  It  would  be  interesting  to  try  the 
experiment  again,  taking  the  Bees  say  five 
miles.  If  they  really  possess  any  such  sense, 
that  distance  would  be  no  bar  to  their  return. 
I  have  myself  experimented  with  Ants,  taking 
them  about  fifty  yards  from  the  nest,  and  I 
always  found  that  they  wandered  aimlessly 


96  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

about,  having  evidently  not  the  slightest  idea 
of  their  way  home.  They  certainly  did  not 
appear  to  possess  any  "  sense  of  direction." 


NUMBER  OF  SPECIES 

The  total  number  of  species  may  probably 
be  safely  estimated  as  at  least  2,000,000,  of 
which  but  a  fraction  have  yet  been  described 
or  named.  Of  extinct  species  the  number 
was  probably  at  least  as  great.  In  the 
geological  history  of  the  earth  there  have 
been  at  least  twelve  periods,  in  each  of  which 
by  far  the  greatest  number  were  distinct.  The 
Ancient  Poets  described  certain  gifted  mortals 
as  having  been  privileged  to  descend  into  the 
interior  of  the  earth,  and  exercised  their 
imagination  in  recounting  the  wonders  thus 
revealed.  As  in  other  cases,  however,  the 
realities  of  Science  have  proved  far  more 
varied  and  surprising  than  the  dreams  of 
fiction.  Of  these  extinct  species  our  knowl- 
edge is  even  more  incomplete  than  that  of 
the  existing  species.  But  even  of  our  con  tern- 


in  ON   ANIMAL   LIFE  97 

poraries  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that,  as  in 
the  case  of  plants,  there  is  not  one  the  structure, 
habits,  and  life-history  of  which  are  yet  fully 
known  to  us.  The  male  of  the  Cynips,  which 
produces  the  common  King  Charles  Oak 
Apple,  has  only  recently  been  discovered, 
those  of  the  root-feeding  Aphides,  which  live 
in  hundreds  in  every  nest  of  the  yellow 
Meadow  Ant  (Lasius  flavus)  are  still  un- 
known ;  the  habits  and  mode  of  reproduction 
of  the  common  Eel  have  only  just  been  dis- 
covered ;  and  we  may  even  say  generally  that 
many  of  the  most  interesting  recent  discover- 
ies have  relation  to  the  commonest  and  most 
familiar  animals. 


IMPORTANCE  OF  THE  SMALLER  ANIMALS 

Whatever  pre-eminence  Man  may  claim  for 
himself,  other  animals  have  done  far  more  to 
affect  the  face  of  nature.  The  principal 
agents  have  not  been  the  larger  or  more  in- 
telligent, but  rather  the  smaller,  and  individ- 
ually less  important,  species.  Beavers  may 
have  dammed  up  many  of  the  rivers  of  Brit- 

H 


98  THE    BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

ish  Columbia,  and  turned  them  into  a  suc- 
cession of  pools  or  marshes,  but  this  is  a 
slight  matter  compared  with  the  action  of 
earthworms  and  insects1  in  the  creation  of 
vegetable  soil ;  of  the  accumulation  of  ani- 
malcules in  filling  up  harbours  and  lakes ; 
or  of  Zoophytes  in  the  construction  of  coral 
islands. 

Microscopic  animals  make  up  in  number 
what  they  lack  in  size.  Paris  is  built  of 
Infusoria.  The  Peninsula  of  Florida,  78,000 
square  miles  in  extent,  is  entirely  composed  of 
coral  debris  and  fragments  of  shells.  Chalk 
consists  mainly  of  Foraminifera  and  fragments 
of  shells  deposited  in  a  deep  sea.  The  num- 
ber of  shells  required  to  make  up  a  cubic  inch 
is  almost  incredible.  Ehrenberg  has  estimated 
that  of  the  Bilin  polishing  slate  which  caps 
the  mountain,  and  has  a  thickness  of  forty 
feet,  a  cubic  inch  contains  many  hundred 
million  shells  of  Infusoria. 

In  another  respect  these  microscopic  organ- 

1  Prof.  Drummond  (  Tropical  Africa)  dwells  with  great  force 
on  the  manner  in  which  the  soil  of  Central  Africa  is  worked  up 
by  the  White  Ants. 


in  ON  ANIMAL   LIFE  99 

isms  are  of  vital  importance.  Many  diseases 
are  now  known,  and  others  suspected,  to  be 
entirely  due  to  Bacteria  and  other  minute 
forms  of  life  (Microbes),  which  multiply  in- 
credibly, and  either  destroy  their  victims,  or 
after  a  while  diminish  again  in  numbers.  We 
live  indeed  in  a  cloud  of  Bacteria.  At  the 
observatory  of  Montsouris  at  Paris  it  has 
been  calculated  that  there  are  about  80  in 
each  cubic  meter  of  air.  Elsewhere,  however, 
they  are  much  more  numerous.  Pasteur's  re- 
searches on  the  Silkworm  disease  led  him  to 
the  discovery  of  Bacterium  anthracis,  the 
cause  of  splenic  fever.  Microbes  are  present 
in  persons  suffering  from  cholera,  typhus, 
whooping-cough,  measles,  hydrophobia,  etc., 
but  as  to  their  history  and  connection  with 
disease  we  have  yet  much  to  learn.  It  is 
fortunate,  indeed,  that  they  do  not  all  at- 
tack us. 

In  surgical  cases,  again,  the  danger  of  com- 
pound fractures  and  mortification  of  wounds 
has  been  found  to  be  mainly  due  to  the  pres- 
ence of  microscopic  organisms  ;  and  Lister,  by 
his  antiseptic  treatment  which  destroys  these 


100  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

germs  or  prevents  their  access,  has  greatly 
diminished  the  danger  of  operations,  and  the 
sufferings  of  recovery. 


SIZE    OF    ANIMALS 

In  the  size  of  animals  we  find  every  grada- 
tion from  these  atoms  which  even  in  the  most 
powerful  microscopes  appear  as  mere  points, 
up  to  the  gigantic  reptiles  of  past  ages  and 
the  Whales  of  our  present  ocean.  The  horned 
Ray  or  Skate  is  25  feet  in  length,  by  30  in 
width.  The  Cuttle-fishes  of  our  seas,  though 
so  hideous  as  to  resemble  a  bad  dream,  are  too 
small  to  be  formidable  ;  but  off  the  Newfound- 
land coast  is  a  species  with  arms  sometimes 
30  feet  long,  so  as  to  be  60  feet  from  tip  to 
tip.  The  body,  however,  is  small  in  propor- 
tion. The  Giraffe  attains  a  height  of  over 
20  feet ;  the  Elephant,  though  not  so  tall,  is 
more  bulky ;  the  Crocodile  reaches  a  length 
of  over  20  feet,  the  Python  of  60  feet,  the 
extinct  Titanosaurus  of  the  American  Jurassic 
beds,  the  largest  land  animal  yet  known  to  us, 
100  feet  in  length  and  30  in  height;  the 


in  ON   ANIMAL   LIFE  101 

Whalebone  Whale  over  70  feet,  Sibbald's 
Whale  is  said  to  have  reached  80-90,  which 
is  perhaps  the  limit.  Captain  Scoresby  in- 
deed mentions  a  Rorqual  no  less  than  120 
feet  in  length,  but  this  is  probably  too  great 
an  estimate. 


COMPLEXITY    OF    ANIMAL    STRUCTURE 

The  complexity  of  animal  structure  is  even 
more  marvellous  than  their  mere  magnitude. 
A  Caterpillar  contains  more  than  2000  mus- 
cles. In  our  own  body  are  some  2,000,000 
perspiration  glands,  communicating  with  the 
surface  by  ducts  having  a  total  length  of  some 
10  miles;  while  that  of  the  arteries,  veins, 
and  capillaries  must  be  very  great;  the  blood 
contains  millions  of  millions  of  corpuscles, 
each  no  doubt  a  complex  structure  in  itself ; 
the  rods  in  the  retina,  which  are  supposed  to 
be  the  ultimate  recipient  of  light,  are  esti- 
mated at  30,000,000 ;  and  Meinert  has  calcu- 
lated that  the  gray  matter  of  the  brain  is 
built  up  of  at  least  600,000,000  cells.  No 


102  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

verbal  description,  however,  can  do  justice  to 
the  marvellous  complexity  of  animal  structure, 
which  the  microscope  alone,  and  even  that  but 
faintly,  can  enable  us  to  realise. 


LENGTH    OF    LIFE 

How  little  we  yet  know  of  the  life-history 
of  Animals  is  illustrated  by  the  vagueness  of 
our  information  as  to  the  age  to  which  they 
live.  Professor  Lankester1  tells  us  that  "the 
paucity  and  uncertainty  of  observations  on 
this  class  of  facts  is  extreme."  The  Rabbit  is 
said  to  reach  10  years,  the  Dog  and  Sheep  10 
-12,  the  Pig  20,  the  Horse  30,  the  Camel  100, 
the  Elephant  200,  the  Greenland  Whale  400 
(?) :  among  Birds,  the  Parrot  to  attain  100 
years,,  the  Raven  even  more.  The  Atur  Par- 
rot mentioned  by  Humboldt,  talked,  but  could 
not  be  understood,  because  it  spoke  in  the 
language  of  an  extinct  Indian  tribe.  It  is 
supposed  from  their  rate  of  growth  that  among 

1  Lankester,   Comparative  Longevity.     See   also  Weismann, 
Duration  of  Life. 


in  ON  ANIMAL  LIFE  103 

Fish  the  Carp  is  said  to  reach  150  years;  and 
a  Pike,  19  feet  long,  and  weighing  350  Ibs., 
is  said  to  have  been  taken  in  Suabia  in  1497 
carrying  a  ring,  on  which  was  inscribed,  "  I 
am  the  fish  which  was  first  of  all  put  into  the 
lake  by  the  hands  of  the  Governor  of  the  Uni- 
verse, Frederick  the  Second,  the  5th  Oct. 
1230."  This  would  imply  an  age  of  over  267 
years.  Many  Reptiles  are  no  doubt  very  long- 
lived.  A  Tortoise  is  said  to  have  reached  500 
years.  As  regards  the  lower  animals,  the 
greatest  age  on  record  is  that  of  Sir  J. 
Dalzell's  Sea  Anemone,  which  lived  for  over 
50  years.  Insects  are  generally  short-lived; 
the  Queen  Bee,  however,  is  said  by  Aristotle, 
whose  statement  has  not  been  confirmed  by 
recent  writers,  to  live  7  years.  I  myself 
had  a  Queen  Ant  which  attained  the  age  of 
15  years. 

The  May  Fly  (Ephemera)  is  celebrated  as 
living  only  for  a  day,  and  has  given  its  name 
to  all  things  short-lived.  The  statement 
usually  made  is,  indeed,  very  misleading,  for 
in  its  larval  condition  the  Ephemera  lives  for 
weeks.  Many  writers  have  expressed  surprise 


104  THE  BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

that  in  the  perfect  state  its  life  should  be  so 
short.  It  is,  however,  so  defenceless,  and, 
moreover,  so  much  appreciated  by  birds  and 
fish,  that  unless  they  laid  their  eggs  very 
rapidly  none  would  perhaps  survive  to  con- 
tinue the  species. 

Many  of  these  estimates  are,  as  will  be 
seen,  very  vague  and  doubtful,  so  that  we 
must  still  admit  with  Bacon  that,  "  touching 
the  length  and  shortness  of  life  in  living 
creatures,  the  information  which  may  be  had 
is  but  slender,  observation  is  negligent,  and 
tradition  fabulous.  In  tame  creatures  their 
degenerate  life  corrupteth  them,  in  wild  creat- 
ures their  exposing  to  all  weathers  often  in- 
tercepteth  them." 


ON    INDIVIDUALITY 

When  we  descend  still  lower  in  the  animal 
scale,  the  consideration  of  this  question  opens 
out  a  very  curious  and  interesting  subject 
connected  with  animal  individuality.  As 
regards  the  animals  with  which  we  are  most 


in  ON  ANIMAL  LIFE  105 

familiar  no  such  question  intrudes.  Among 
quadrupeds  and  birds,  fishes  and  reptiles, 
there  is  no  difficulty  in  deciding  whether  a 
given  organism  is  an  individual,  or  a  part  of 
an  individual.  Nor  does  the  difficulty  arise 
in  the  case  of  most  insects.  The  Bee  or  But- 
terfly lays  an  egg  which  develops  successively 
into  a  larva  and  pupa,  finally  producing  Bee 
or  Butterfly.  In  these  cases,  therefore,  the 
egg,  larva,  pupa,  and  perfect  Insect,  are  re- 
garded as  stages  in  the  life  of  a  single  indi- 
vidual. In  certain  gnats,  however,  the  larva 
itself  produces  young  larvae,  each  of  which 
develops  into  a  gnat,  so  that  the  egg  produces 
not  one  gnat  but  many  gnats. 

The  difficulty  of  determining  what  consti- 
tutes an  individual  becomes  still  greater  among 
the  Zoophytes.  These  beautiful  creatures  in 
many  cases  so  closely  resemble  plants,  that 
until  our  countryman  Ellis  proved  them  to  be 
animals,  Crabbe  was  justified  in  saying  — 

Involved  in  sea  wrack  here  we  find  a  race, 
Which  Science,  doubting,  knows  not  where  to  place ; 
On  shell  or  stone  is  dropped  the  embryo  seed, 
And  quickly  vegetates  a  vital  breed. 


106  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

We  cannot  wonder  that  such  organisms  were 
long  regarded  as  belonging  to  the  vegetable 
kingdom.  The  cups  which  terminate  the 
branches  contain,  however,  an  animal  struct- 
ure, resembling  a  small  Sea  Anemone,  and 
possessing  arms  which  capture  the  food  by 
which  the  whole  colony  is  nourished.  Some 
of  these  cups,  moreover,  differ  from  the  rest, 
and  produce  eggs.  These  then  we  might 
be  disposed  to  term  ovaries.  But  in  many 
species  they  detach  themselves  from  the  group 
and  lead  an  independent  existence.  Thus  we 
find  a  complete  gradation  from  structures 
which,  regarded  by  themselves,  we  should  un- 
questionably regard  as  mere  organs,  to  others 
which  are  certainly  separate  and  independent 
beings. 

Fig.  2  represents,  after  Allman,  a  colony  of 
Bougainvillea  fruticosa  of  the  natural  size. 
It  is  a  British  species,  which  is  found  growing 
on  buoys,  floating  timber,  etc.,  and,  says 
Allman,  "  When  in  health  and  vigour,  offers 
a  spectacle  unsurpassed  in  interest  by  any 
other  species  —  every  branchlet  crowned  by 
its  graceful  hydranth,  and  budding  with  Me- 


Ill 


ON  ANIMAL  LIFE 


107 


dusae  in  all  stages  of  development  (Fig.  3),  some 
still  in  the  condition  of  minute  buds,  in  which 
no  trace  of  the  definite  Medusa-form  can  yet 


Fig.  2.  —  Bougainvillea  fruticosa;  natural  size.     (After  Allman.) 

be  detected  ;  others,  in  which  the  outlines  of 
the  Medusa  can  be  distinctly  traced  within 
the  transparent  ectotheque  (external  layer) ; 
others,  again,  just  casting  off  this  thin  outer 
pellicle,  and  others  completely  freed  from  it, 
struggling  with  convulsive  efforts  to  break 
loose  from  the  colony,  and  finally  launched 


'TNT  17  BE 


•ITT 


108 


THE  BEAUTIES  OF  NATURE 


CHAP. 


forth  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  their  freedom 
into  the  surrounding  water.     I  know  of  no 


Fig.  3.  — Bougainvillea  fruticosa;  magnified  to  show  development. 

form  in  which  so  many  of  the  characteristic 
features  of  a  typical  hydroid  are  more  finely 
expressed  than  in  this  beautiful  species." 


ill  ON  ANIMAL   LIFE  109 

Fig.  4  represents  the  Medusa  or  free  form 
of  this  beautiful  species. 

If  we  pass  to  another 
great  group  of  Zoophytes, 
that  of  the  Jelly-fishes, 
we  have  a  very  similar 
case.  For  our  first  knowl- 
edge of  the  life-history 
of  these  Zoophytes  we 
are  indebted  to  the  Nor- 
wegian naturalist  Sars. 
Take,  for  instance,  the 
common  Jelly-fish  (Me- 


dusa   auHta)    (Fig.    5)    Of  Fig.  4.  —  Bougainvillea 

fruticosa,  Medusa-form. 

our  shores. 

The  egg  is  a  pear-shaped  body  (/),  covered 
with  fine  hairs,  by  the  aid  of  which  it  swims 
about,  the  broader  end  in  front.  After  a 
while  it  attaches  itself,  not  as  might  have 
been  expected  by  the  posterior  but  by  the 
anterior  extremity  (2).  The  cilia  then  dis- 
appear, a  mouth  is  formed  at  the  free  end, 
tentacles,  first  four  (j>),  then  eight,  and  at 
length  as  many  as  thirty  (^),  are  formed,  and 
the  little  creature  resembles  in  essentials  the 
freshwater  polyp  (Hydra)  of  our  ponds. 


110 


THE   BEAUTIES  OF  NATURE 


CHAP. 


At  the  same  time  transverse  wrinkles  (4) 
are  formed  round  the  body,  first  near  the 
free  extremity  and  then  gradually  descend- 
ing. They  become  deeper  and  deeper,  and 
develop  lobes  or  divisions  one  under  the  other, 


Fig.  5.  —Medusa  aurita,  and  progressive  stages  of  development. 

as  at  5.  After  a  while  the  top  ring  (and 
subsequently  the  others  one  by  one)  detaches 
itself,  swims  away,  and  gradually  develops 
into  a  Medusa  (6).  Thus,  then,  the  life-his- 
tory is  very  similar  to  that  of  the  Hydroids, 
only  that  while  in  the  Hydroids  the  fixed 
condition  is  the  more  permanent,  and  the  free 


in  ON   ANIMAL   LIFE  111 

swimming  more  transitory,  in  the  Medusae,  on 
the  contrary,  the  fixed  condition  is  apparently 
only  a  phase  in  the  production  of  the  free 
swimming  animal.  In  both  the  one  and  the 
other,  however,  the  egg  gives  rise  not  to  one 
but  to  many  mature  animals.  Steenstrup  has 
given  to  these  curious  phenomena,  many  other 
cases  of  which  occur  among  the  lower  animals, 
and  to  which  he  first  called  attention,  the 
name  of  alternations  of  generations. 

In  the  life-history  of  Infusoria  (so  called 
because  they  swarm  in  most  animal  or  vege- 
table infusions)  similar  difficulties  encounter 
us.  The  little  creatures,  many  of  which  are 
round  or  oval  in  form,  from  time  to  time 
become  constricted  in  the  middle ;  the  con- 
striction becomes  deeper  and  deeper,  and  at 
length  the  two  halves  twist  themselves  apart 
and  swim  away.  In  this  case,  therefore,  there 
was  one,  and  there  are  now  two  exactly  sim- 
ilar ;  but  are  these  two  individuals  ?  They 
are  not  parent  and  offspring  —  that  is  clear, 
for  they  are  of  the  same  age ;  nor  are  they 
twins,  for  there  is  no  parent.  As  already 
mentioned,  we  regard  the  Caterpillar,  Chrys- 


112  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

alls,  and  Butterfly  as  stages  in  the  life-history 
of  a  single  individual.  But  among  Zoophytes, 
and  even  among  some  insects,  one  larva  often 
produces  several  mature  forms.  In  some 
species  these  mature  forms  remain  attached  to 
the  larval  stock,  and  we  might  be  disposed  to 
regard  the  whole  as  one  complex  organism. 
But  in  others  they  detach  themselves  and  lead 
an  independent  existence. 

These  considerations  then  introduce  much 
difficulty  into  our  conception  of  the  idea  of  an 
Individual. 


ANIMAL    IMMORTALITY 

But,  further  than  this,  we  are  confronted  by 
by  another  problem.  If  we  regard  a  mass  of 
coral  as  an  individual  because  it  arises  by 
continuous  growth  from  a  single  egg,  then  it 
follows  that  some  corals  must  be  thousands  of 
years  old. 

Some  of  the  lower  animals  may  be  cut  into 
pieces,  and  each  piece  will  develop  into  an 


in  ON   ANIMAL   LIFE  113 

entire  organism.  In  fact  the  realisation  of 
the  idea  of  an  individual  gradually  becomes 
more  and  more  difficult,  and  the  continuity  of 
existence,  even  among  the  highest  animals, 
gradually  forces  itself  upon  us.  I  believe 
that  as  we  become  more  rational,  as  we  real- 
ise more  fully  the  conditions  of  existence, 
this  consideration  is  likely  to  have  important 
moral  results. 

It  is  generally  considered  that  death  is  the 
common  lot  of  all  living  beings.  But  is  this 
necessarily  so  ?  Infusoria  and  other  unicellu- 
lar animals  multiply  by  division.  That  is  to 
say,  if  we  watch  one  for  a  certain  time,  we 
shall  observe,  as  already  mentioned,  that  a 
constriction  takes  place,  which  grows  gradu- 
ally deeper  and  deeper,  until  at  last  the  two 
halves  become  quite  detached,  and  each 
swims  away  independently.  The  process  is 
repeated  over  and  over  again,  and  in  this 
manner  the  species  is  propagated.  Here  ob- 
viously there  is  no  birth  and  no  death.  Such 
creatures  may  be  killed,  but  they  have  no 
natural  term  of  life.  They  are,  in  fact,  theo- 


114  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP,  in 

retically  immortal.  Those  which  lived  mil- 
lions of  years  ago  may  have  gone  on  dividing 
and  subdividing,  and  in  this  sense  multitudes 
of  the  lower  animals  are  millions  of  years 
old. 


CHAPTER  IV 


ON   PLANT    LIFE 


Flower  in  the  crannied  wall, 

I  pluck  you  out  of  the  crannies, 

I  hold  you  here,  root  and  all,  in  my  hand, 

Little  flower  —  but  if  I  could  understand 

What  you  are,  root  and  all,  and  all  in  all, 

I  should  know  what  God  and  man  is. 

TENNYSON. 


CHAPTER   IV 

ON   PLANT   LIFE 

WE  are  told  that  in  old  days  the  Fairies 
used  to  give  presents  of  Flowers  and  Leaves  to 
those  whom  they  wished  to  reward,  or  whom 
they  loved  best ;  and  though  these  gifts  were, 
it  appears,  often  received  with  disappoint- 
ment, still  it  will  probably  be  admitted  that 
flowers  have  contributed  more  to  the  happi- 
ness of  our  lives  than  either  gold  or  silver  or 
precious  stones";  and  that  our  happiest  days 
have  been  spent  out-of-doors  in  the  woods  and 
fields,  when  we  have 

.  .  .  found  in  every  woodland  way 
The  sunlight  tint  of  Fairy  Gold.1 

To  many  minds  Flowers  acquired  an  ad- 
ditional interest  when  it  was  shown  that 

1  Thomson. 

117 


118  THE  BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

there  was  a  reason  for  their  colour,  size,  and 
form — in  fact,  for  every  detail  of  their  organ- 
isation. If  we  did  but  know  all  that  the 
smallest  flower  could  tell  us,  we  should  have 
solved  some  of  the  greatest  mysteries  of 
Nature.  But  we  cannot  hope  to  succeed — 
even  if  we  had  the  genius  of  Plato  or  Aris- 
totle—  without  careful,  patient,  and  rever- 
ent study.  From  such  an  inquiry  we  may 
hope  much  ;  already  we  have  glimpses,  enough 
to  convince  us  that  the  whole  history  will 
open  out  to  us  conceptions  of  the  Universe 
wider  and  grander  than  any  which  the  Imagi- 
nation alone  would  ever  have  suggested. 

Attempts  to  explain  the  forms,  colours,  and 
other  characteristics  of  animals  and  plants 
are  by  no  means  new.  Our  Teutonic  fore- 
fathers had  a  pretty  story  which  explained 
certain  points  about  several  common  plants. 
Balder,  the  God  of  Mirth  and  Merriment,  was, 
characteristically  enough,  regarded  as  deficient 
in  the  possession  of  immortality.  The  other 
divinities,  fearing  to  lose  him,  petitioned  Thor 
to  make  him  immortal,  and  the  prayer  was 
granted  on  condition  that  every  animal  and 


iv  ON  PLANT  LIFE  119 

plant  would  swear  not  to  injure  him,  To 
secure  this  object,  Nanna,  Balder's  wife, 
descended  upon  the  earth.  Loki,  the  God 
of  Envy,  followed  her,  disguised  as  a  crow 
(which  at  that  time  were  white),  and  settled 
on  a  little  blue  flower,  hoping  to  cover  it  up, 
so  that  Nanna  might  overlook  it.  The  flower, 
however,  cried  out  "forget-me-not,  forget-me- 
not,"  and  has  ever  since  been  known  under 
that  name.  Loki  then  flew  up  into  an  oak 
and  sat  on  a  mistletoe.  Here  he  was  more 
successful.  Nanna  carried  off  the  oath  of 
the  oak,  but  overlooked  the  mistletoe.  She 
thought,  however,  and  the  divinities  thought, 
that  she  had  successfully  accomplished  her 
mission,  and  that  Balder  had  received  the  gift 
of  immortality. 

One  day,  supposing  Balder  proof,  they 
amused  themselves  by  shooting  at  him,  post- 
ing him  against  a  Holly.  Loki  tipped  an 
arrow  with  a  piece  of  Mistletoe,  against  which 
Balder  was  not  proof,  and  gave  it  to  Balder's 
brother.  This,  unfortunately,  pierced  him  to 
the  heart,  and  he  fell  dead.  Some  drops  of 
his  blood  spurted  on  to  the  Holly,  which 


120  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

accounts  for  the  redness  of  the  berries  ;  the 
Mistletoe  was  so  grieved  that  she  has  ever' 
since  borne  fruit  like  tears ;  and  the  crow, 
whose  form  Loki  had  taken,  and  which  till 
then  had  been  white,  was  turned  black. 

This  pretty  myth  accounts  for  several  things, 
but  is  open  to  fatal  objections. 

Recent  attempts  to  explain  the  facts  of 
Nature  are  not  less  fascinating,  and,  I  think, 
more  successful. 

Why  then  this  marvellous  variety  ?  this 
inexhaustible  treasury  of  beautiful  forms  ? 
Does  it  result  from  some  innate  tendency  in 
each  species  ?  Is  it  intentionally  designed  to 
delight  the  eye  of  man  ?  Or  has  the  form 
and  size  and  texture  some  reference  to  the 
structure  and  organisation,  the  habits  and 
requirements  of  the  whole  plant  ? 

I  shall  never  forget  hearing  Darwin's  paper 
on  the  structure  of  the  Cowslip  and  Primrose, 
after  which  even  Sir  Joseph  Hooker  compared 
himself  to  Peter  Bell,  to  whom 

A  primrose  by  a  river's  brim 
A  yellow  primrose  was  to  him, 
And  it  was  nothing  more. 


iv  ON   PLANT   LIFE  121 

We  all,  I  think,  shared  the  same  feeling,  and 
found  that  the  explanation  of  the  flower  then 
given,  and  to  which  I  shall  refer  again,  in- 
vested it  with  fresh  interest  and  even  with 
new  beauty. 

A  regular  flower,  such,  for  instance,  as  a 
Geranium  or  a  Pink,  consists  of  four  or  more 
whorls  of  leaves,  more  or  less  modified  :  the 
lowest  whorl  is  the  Calyx,  and  the  separate 
leaves  of  which  it  is  composed,  which  however 
are  sometimes  united  into  a  tube,  are  called 
sepals ;  (2)  a  second  whorl,  the  corolla,  con- 
sisting of  coloured  leaves  called  petals,  which, 
however,  like  those  of  the  Calyx,  are  often 
united  into  a  tube  ;  (3)  of  one  or  more  sta- 
mens, consisting  of  a  stalk  or  filament,  and 
a  head  or  anther,  in  which  the  pollen  is  pro- 
duced ;  and  (4)  a  pistil,  which  is  situated  in  the 
centre  of  the  flower,  and  at  the  base  of  which 
is  the  Ovary,  containing  one  or  more  seeds. 

Almost  all  large  flowers  are  brightly  col- 
oured, many  produce  honey,  and  many  are 
sweet-scented. 

What,  then,  is  the  use  and  purpose  of  this 
complex  organisation  ? 


122  THE  BEAUTIES  OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

It  is,  I  think,  well  established  that  the 
main  object  of  the  colour,  scent,  and  honey  of 
flowers  is  to  attract  insects,  which  are  of  use 
to  the  plant  in  carrying  the  pollen  from  flower 
to  flower. 

In  many  species  the  pollen  is,  and  no  doubt 
it  originally  was  in  all,  carried  by  the  air. 
In  these  cases  the  chance  against  any  given 
grain  of  pollen  reaching  the  pistil  of  another 
flower  of  the  same  species  is  of  course  very 
great,  and  the  quantity  of  pollen  required  is 
therefore  immense. 

In  species  where  the  pollen  is  wind-borne 
as  in  most  of  our  trees  —  firs,  oaks,  beech, 
ash,  elm,  etc.,  and  many  herbaceous  plants, 
the  flowers  are  as  a  rule  small  and  inconspic- 
uous, greenish,  and  without  either  scent  or 
honey.  Moreover,  they  generally  flower  early, 
so  that  the  pollen  may  not  be  intercepted  by 
the  leaves,  but  may  have  a  better  chance  of 
reaching  another  flower.  And  they  produce 
an  immense  quantity  of  pollen,  as  otherwise 
there  would  be  little  chance  that  any  would 
reach  the  female  flower.  Every  one  must 
have  noticed  the  clouds  of  pollen  produced  by 


iv  ON  PLANT  LIFE  123 

the  Scotch  Fir.  When,  on  the  contrary,  the 
pollen  is  carried  by  insects,  the  quantity  nec- 
essary is  greatly  reduced.  Still  it  has  been 
calculated  that  a  Peony  flower  produces  be- 
tween 3,000,000  and  4,000,000  pollen  grains ; 
in  the  Dandelion,  which  is  more  specialised, 
the  number  is  reduced  to  about  250,000 ; 
while  in  such  a  flower  as  the  Dead-nettle  it  is 
still  smaller. 

The  honey  attracts  the  insects ;  while  the 
scent  and  colour  help  them  to  find  the  flowers, 
the  scent  being  especially  useful  at  night, 
which  is  perhaps  the  reason  why  evening 
flowers  are  so  sweet. 

It  is  to  insects,  then,  that  flowers  owe 
their  beauty,  scent,  and  sweetness.  Just  as 
gardeners,  by  continual  selection,  have  added 
so  much  to  the  beauty  of  our  gardens,  so  to 
the  unconscious  action  of  insects  is  due  the 
beauty,  scent,  and  sweetness  of  the  flowers  of 
our  woods  and  fields. 

Let  us  now  apply  these  views  to  a  few 
common  flowers.  Take,  for  instance,  the 
White  Dead-nettle. 

The  corolla  of  this  beautiful  and  familiar 


124  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

flower  (Fig.  6)  consists  of  a  narrow  tube,  some- 
what expanded  at  the  upper  end  (Fig.  7), 
where  the  lower  lobe  forms  a  platform,  on 

each  side  of  which  is  a 
small  projecting  tooth 
(Fig.  8,  m).  The  upper 
portion  of  the  corolla 
is  an  arched  hood  (co), 
under  which  lie  four 
anthers  (a  a),  in  pairs, 
while  between  them, 
and  projecting  some- 
what downwards,  is 
the  pointed  pistil  (st) ; 
the  tube  at  the  lower 
part  contains  honey, 

Fig.  6.  — White  Dead-nettle. 

and  above   the  honey 
is  a  row  of  hairs  running  round  the  tube. 

Now,  why  has  the  flower  this  peculiar 
form  ?  What  regulates  the  length  of 
the  tube  ?  What  is  the  use  of  the  arch  ? 
What  lesson  do  the  little  teeth  teach 
us  ?  What  advantage  is  the  honey  to  the 
flower  ?  Of  what  use  is  the  fringe  of  hairs  ? 
Why  does  the  stigma  project  beyond  the 


iv  ON  PLANT  LIFE  125 

anthers?      Why  is  the  corolla  white,  while 
the  rest  of  the  plant  is  green  ? 

The  honey  of  course  serves  to  attract  the 
Humble  Bees  by  which  the  flower  is  fertilised, 
and  to  which  it  is  especially  adapted ;  the 


CO 


Fig.  7.  Fig.  8. 

white  colour  makes  the  flower  more  conspicu- 
ous ;  the  lower  lip  forms  the  stage  on  which 
the  Bees  may  alight;  the  length  of  the  tube 
is  adapted  to  that  of  their  proboscis ;  its 
narrowness  and  the  fringe  of  fine  hairs  exclude 
small  insects  which  might  rob  the  flower  of 
its  honey  without  performing  any  service  in 
return ;  the  arched  upper  lip  protects  the 
stamens  and  pistil,  and  prevents  rain-drops 
from  choking  up  the  tube  and  washing  away 
the  honey ;  the  little  teeth  are,,  I  believe,  of 


126  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

<• 

no  use  to  the  flower  in  its  present  condition, 
they  are  the  last  relics  of  lobes  once  much 
larger,  and  still  remaining  so  in  some  allied 
species,  but  which  in  the  Dead-nettle,  being 
no  longer  of  any  use,  are  gradually  disap- 
pearing ;  the  height  of  the  arch  has  refer- 
ence to  the  size  of  the  Bee,  being  just  so 
much  above  the  alighting  stage  that  the 
Bee,  while  sucking  the  honey,  rubs  its  back 
against  the  hood  and  thus  comes  in  contact 
first  with  the  stigma  and  then  with  the 
anthers,  the  pollen-grains  from  which  adhere 
to  the  hairs  on  the  Bee's  back,  and  are  thus 
carried  off  to  the  next  flower  which  the  Bee 
visits,  when  some  of  them  are  then  licked 
off  by  the  viscid  tip  of  the  stigma.1 

In  the  Salvias,  the  common  blue  Salvia  of 
our  gardens,  for  instance, — a  plant  allied  to 
the  Dead-nettle,  —  the  flower  (Fig.  9)  is  con- 
structed on  the  same  plan,  but  the  arch  is 
much  larger,  so  that  the  back  of  the  Bee  does 
not  nearly  reach  it.  The  stamens,  however, 
have  undergone  a  remarkable  modification. 
Two  of  them  have  become  small  and  function- 

1  Lubbock,  Flowers  and  Insects. 


IV 


ON  PLANT  LIFE 


127 


less.  In  the  other  two  the  anthers  or  cells  pro- 
ducing the  pollen,  which  in  most  flowers  form 
together  a  round  knob  or 
head  at  the  top  of  the 
stamen,  are  separated  by 
a  long  arm,  which  plays 
on  the  top  of  the  stamen 
as  on  a  hinge.  Of  these 
two  arms  one  hangs  down 
into  the  tube,  closing  the 
passage,  while  the  other 
lies  under  the  arched  upper  lip.  When  the 
Bee  pushes  its  proboscis  down  the  tube  (Fig.  11) 


Fig. 


Fig.  10. 


Fig.  11. 


it  presses  the  lower  arm  to  one  side,  and  the 
upper  arm  consequently  descends,  tapping  the 


128  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  *  CHAP. 

Bee  on  the  back,  and  dusting  it  with  pollen. 
When  the  flower  is  a  little  older  the  pistil 
(Fig.  9,  p)  has  elongated  so  that  the  stigma 
(Fig.  10,  st)  touches  the  back  of  the  Bee  and 
carries  off  some  of  the  pollen.  This  sounds  a 
little  complicated,  but  is  clear  enough  if  we 
take  a  twig  or  stalk  of  grass  and  push  it 
down  the  tube,  when  one  arm  of  each  of  the 
two  larger  stamens  will  at  once  make  its 
appearance.  It  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
pieces  of  plant  mechanism  which  I  know, 
and  was  first  described  by  Sprengel,  a  poor 
German  schoolmaster. 


SNAPDKAGON 

At  first  sight  it  may  seem  an  objection  to 
the  view  here  advocated  that  the  flowers  in 
some  species  —  as,  for  instance,  the  common 
Snapdragon  (Antirrhinum),  which,  according 
to  the  above  given  tests,  ought  to  be  fertilised 
by  insects  —  are  entirely  closed.  A  little  con- 
sideration, however,  will  suggest  the  reply. 
The  Snapdragon  is  especially  adapted  for 


iv  ON  PLANT   LIFE  129 

fertilisation  by  Humble  Bees.  The  stamens 
and  pistil  are  so  arranged  that  smaller  species 
would  not  effect  the  object.  It  is  therefore 
an  advantage  that  they  should  be  excluded, 
and  in  fact  they  are  not  strong  enough  to 
move  the  spring.  The  Antirrhinum  is,  so  to 
speak,  a  closed  box,  of  which  the  Humble 
Bees  alone  possess  the  key. 


FURZE,    BROOM,    AND    LABURNUM 

Other  flowers  such  as  the  Furze,  Broom, 
Laburnum,  etc.,  are  also  opened  by  Bees. 
The  petals  lock  more  or  less  into  one  an- 
other, and  the  flower  remains  at  first  closed. 
When,  however,  the  insect  alighting  on  it 
presses  down  the  keel,  the  flower  bursts  open, 
and  dusts  it  with  pollen. 

SWEET    PEA 

In  the  above  cases  the  flower  once  opened 
does  not  close  again.  In  others,  such  as  the 
Sweet  Pea  and  the  Bird's-foot  Lotus,  Nature 


130  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE     -         CHAP. 

has  been  more  careful.  When  the  Bee  alights 
it  clasps  the  "wings"  of  the  flower  with  its 
legs,  thus  pressing  them  down ;  they  are, 
however,  locked  into  the  "  keel,"  or  lower 
petal,  which  accordingly  is  also  forced  down, 
thus  exposing  the  pollen  which  rubs  against, 
and  part  of  which  sticks  to,  the  breast  of  the 
Bee.  When  she  leaves  the  flower  the  keel 
and  wings  rise  again,  thus  protecting  the  rest 
of  the  pollen  and  keeping  it  ready  until 
another  visitor  comes.  It  is  easy  to  carry  out 
the  same  process  with  the  fingers. 


PRIMULA 

In  the  Primrose  and  Cowslip,  again,  we  find 
quite  a  different  plan.  It  had  long  been 
known  that  if  a  number  of  Cowslips  or  Prim- 
roses are  examined,  about  half  would  be  found 
to  have  the  stigma  at  the  top  of  the  tube  and 
the  stamens  half  way  down,  while  in  the  other 
half  the  stamens  are  at  the  top  and  the  stigma 
half  way  down.  These  two  forms  are  about 
equally  numerous,  but  never  occur  on  the 


iv  ON  PLANT  LIFE  131 

same  stock.  They  have  been  long  known  to 
children  and  gardeners,  who  call  them  thrum- 
eyed  and  pin-eyed.  Mr.  Darwin  was  the 
first  to  explain  the  significance  of  this  curious 
difference.  It  cost  him  several  years  of 
patient  labour,  but  when  once  pointed  out  it 
is  sufficiently  obvious.  An  insect  thrusting  its 


CO 


OoOO 
0   0 


X  250 

Fig.  12.  Fig.  13. 

Flower  and  Pollen  of  Primrose 

proboscis  down  a  primrose  of  the  long-styled 
form  (Fig.  12)  would  dust  its  proboscis  at  a 
part  (a)  which,  when  it  visited  a  short-styled 
flower  (Fig.  13),  would  come  just  opposite 
the  head  of  the  pistil  (st),  and  could  not  fail 
to  deposit  some  of  the  pollen  on  the  stigma. 
Conversely,  an  insect  visiting  a  short-styled 
plant  would  dust  its  proboscis  at  a  part  farther 


132  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

from  the  tip ;  which,  when  the  insect  subse- 
quently visited  a  long-styled  flower,  would 
again  come  just  opposite  to  the  head  of  the 
pistil.  Hence  we  see  that  by  this  beautiful 
arrangement  insects  must  carry  the  pollen  of 
the  long-styled  form  to  the  short-styled,  and 
vice  versa. 

The  economy  of  pollen  is  not  the  only 
advantage  which  plants  derive  from  these 
visits  of  Insects.  A  second  and  scarcely  less 
important  is  that  they  tend  to  secure  "cross 
fertilisation  "  ;  that  is  to  say,  that  the  seed 
shall  be  fertilised  by  pollen  from  another 
plant.  The  fact  that  "  cross  fertilisation  "  is 
of  advantage  to  the  plant  doubtless  also 
explains  the  curious  arrangement  that  in 
many  plants  the  stamen  and  pistil  do  not 
mature  at  the  same  time  —  the  former  having 
shed  their  pollen  before  the  pistil  is  mature ; 
or,  which  happens  less  often,  the  pistil  having 
withered  before  the  pollen  is  ripe.  In  most 
Geraniums,  Pinks,  etc.,  for  instance,  and 
many  allied  species,  the  stamens  ripen  first, 
and  are  followed  after  an  interval  by  the 
pistil.  • 


iv  ON  PLANT  LIFE  133 


THE    NOTTINGHAM    CATCHFLY 

The  Nottingham  Catchfly  (Silene  nutans) 
is  a  very  interesting  case.  The  flower  is 
adapted  to  be  fertilised  by  Moths.  Accord- 
ingly it  opens  towards  evening,  and  as  is 
generally  the  case  with  such  flowers,  is  pale 
in  colour,  and  sw^eet-scented.  There  are  two 
sets  of  stamens,  five  in  each  set.  The  first 
evening  that  the  flower  opens  one  set  of  sta- 
mens ripen  and  expose  their  pollen.  Towards 
morning  these  wither  away,  the  flower  shrivels 
up,  ceases  to  emit  scent,  and  looks  as  if  it 
were  faded.  So  it  remains  all  next  day. 
Towards  evening  it  reopens,  the  second  set  of 
stamens  have  their  turn,  and  the  flower  again 
becomes  fragrant.  By  morning,  however,  the 
second  set  of  stamens  have  shrivelled,  and  the 
flower  is  again  asleep.  Finally  on  the  third 
evening  it  re-opens  for  the  last  time,  the  long 
spiral  stigmas  expand,  and  can  hardly  fail  to 
be  fertilised  with  the  pollen  brought  by  Moths 
from  other  flowers. 


134  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 


THE  'HEATH 

In  the  hanging  flowers  of  Heaths  the  sta- 
mens form  a  ring,  and  each  one  baars  two 
horns.  When  the  Bee  inserts  its  proboscis 
into  the  flower  to  reach  the  honey,  it  is  sure 
to  press  against  one  of  these  horns,  the  ring 
is  dislocated,  and  the  pollen  falls  on  to  the 
head  of  the  insect.  In  fact,  any  number  of 
other  interesting  cases  might  be  mentioned. 


BEES    AND    FLIES 

Bees  are  intelligent  insects,  and  would  soon 
cease  to  visit  flowers  which  did  not  supply 
them  with  food.  Flies,  however,  are  more 
stupid,  and  are  often  deceived.  Thus  in  our 
lovely  little  Parnassia,  five  of  the  ten  stamens 
have  ceased  to  produce  pollen,  but  are  pro- 
longed into  fingers,  each  terminating  in  a 
shining  yellow  knob,  which  looks  exactly  like 
a  drop  of  honey,  and  by  which  Flies  are  con- 


iv  ON  PLANT  LIFE  135 

tinually  deceived.  Paris  quadrifolia  also 
takes  them  in  with  a  deceptive  promise  of  the 
same  kind.  Some  foreign  plants  have  livid 
yellow  and  reddish  flowers,  with  a  most  offen- 
sive smell,  and  are  constantly  visited  by  Flies, 
which  apparently  take  them  for  pieces  of 
decaying  meat. 

The  flower  of  the  common  Lords 
and  Ladies  (Arum)  of  our  hedges 
is  a  very  interesting  case.  The 
narrow  neck  bears  a  number  of 
hairs  pointing  downwards.  The 
stamens  are  situated  above  the 
stigma,  which  comes  to  maturity 
first.  Small  Flies  enter  the  flower 
apparently  for  shelter,  but  the  hairs 
prevent  them  from  returning,  and 
they  are  kept  captive  until  the 
anthers  have  shed  their  pollen. 

Fig.  14.— Arum. 

Then,  when  the  Flies   have   been 
well   dusted,  the  hairs  shrivel  up,  leaving  a 
clear   road,  and   the    prisoners  are  permitted 
to  escape.     The  tubular  flowers  of  Aristolochia 
offer  a  very  similar  case. 


136  THE  BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 


PAST    HISTORY    OF    FLOWERS 

If  the  views  here  advocated  are  correct,  it 
follows  that  the  original  flowers  were  small 
and  green,  as  wind-fertilised  flowers  are  even 
now.  But  such  flowers  are  inconspicuous. 
Those  which  are  coloured,  say  yellow  or  white, 
are  of  course  much  more  visible  and  more 
likely  to  be  visited  by  insects.  I  have  else- 
where given  my  reasons  for  thinking  that 
under  these  circumstances  some  flowers  be- 
came yellow,  that  some  of  them  became  white, 
others  subsequently  red,  and  some  finally  blue. 
It  will  be  observed  that  red  and  blue  flowers 
are  as  a  rule  highly  specialised,  such  as 
Aconites  and  Larkspurs  as  compared  with 
Buttercups;  blue  Gentians  as  compared  with 
yellow,  etc.  I  have  found  by  experiment 
that  Bees  are  especially  partial  to  blue  and 
pink. 

Tubular  flowers  almost  always,  if  not 
always,  contain  honey,  and  are  specially  suited 
to  Butterflies  and  Moths,  Bees  and  Flies. 
Those  which  are  fertilised  by  Moths  generally 


iv  ON  PLANT  LIFE  137 

come  out  in  the  evening,  are  often  very  sweetly 
scented,  and  are  generally  white  or  pale 
yellow,  these  colours  being  most  visible  in  the 
twilight. 

Aristotle  long  ago  noticed  the  curious  fact 
that  in  each  journey  Bees  confine  themselves 
to  some  particular  flower.  This  is  an  economy 
of  labour  to  the  Bee,  because  she  has  not  to 
vary  her  course  of  proceeding.  It  is  also  an 
advantage  to  the  plants,  because  the  pollen 
is  carried  from  each  flower  to  another  of  the 
same  species,  and  is  therefore  less  likely  to  be 
wasted. 


FKUITS    AND    SEEDS 

After  the  flower  comes  the  seed,  often 
contained  in  a  fruit,  and  which  itself  en- 
closes the  future  plant.  Fruits  and  seeds 
are  adapted  for  dispersion,  beautifully  and  in 
various  ways  :  some  by  the  wind,  being  either 
provided  with  a  wing,  as  in  the  fruits  of  many 
trees  —  Sycamores,  Ash,  Elms,  etc. ;  or  with 
a  hairy  crown  or  covering,  as  with  Thistles, 
Dandelions,  Willows,  Cotton  plant,  etc. 


138  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATUKE  CIIAP. 

Some  seeds  are  carried  by  animals  ;  either 
as  food  —  such  as  most  edible  fruits  and  seeds, 
acorns,  nuts,  apples,  strawberries,  raspberries, 
blackberries,  plums,  grasses,  etc.  —  or  invol- 
untarily, the  seeds  having  hooked  hairs  or 
processes,  such  as  burrs,  cleavers,  etc. 

Some  seeds  are  scattered  by  the  plants 
themselves,  as,  for  instance,  those  of  many 
Geraniums,  Violets,  Balsams,  Shamrocks,  etc. 
Our  little  Herb  Robert  throws  its  seeds  some 
25  feet. 

Some  seeds  force  themselves  into  the 
ground,  as  those  of  certain  grasses,  Cranes'- 
bills  (Erodiums),  etc. 

Some  are  buried  by  the  parent  plants, 
as  those  of  certain  clovers,  vetches,  violets, 
etc. 

Some  attach  themselves  to  the  soil,  as 
those  of  the  Flax ;  or  to  trees,  as  in  the  case 
of  the  Mistletoe. 


LEAVES 

Again,  as  regards  the  leaves  there  can,  I 
think,  be  no  doubt  that  similar  considerations 


iv  ON  PLANT  LIFE  139 

of  utility  are  applicable.  Their  forms  are 
almost  infinitely  varied.  To  quote  Rus  kin's 
vivid  words,  they  "  take  all  kinds  of  strange 
shapes,  as  if  to  invite  us  to  examine  them. 
Star-shaped,  heart-shaped,  spear-shaped,  arrow- 
shaped,  fretted,  fringed,  cleft,  furrowed,  ser- 
rated, sinuated,  in  whorls,  in  tufts,  in  spires, 
in  wreaths,  endlessly  expressive,  deceptive, 
fantastic,  never  the  same  from  foot-stalk  to 
blossom,  they  seem  perpetually  to  tempt  our 
watchfulness  and  take  delight  in  outstepping 
our  wonder." 

But  besides  these  differences  of  mere  form, 
there  are  many  others  :  of  structure,  texture, 
and  surface ;  some  are  scented  or  have  a 
strong  taste,  or  acrid  juice,  some  are  smooth, 
others  hairy ;  and  the  hairs  again  are  of 
various  kinds. 

I  have  elsewhere 1  endeavoured  to  explain 
some  of  the  causes  which  have  determined 
these  endless  varieties.  In  the  Beech,  for  in- 
stance (Fig.  15),  the  leaf  has  an  area  of  about 
3  square  inches.  The  distance  between  the 
buds  is  about  H  inch,  and  the  leaves  lie  in 

1  Flowers,  Fruits,  and  Leaves. 


140  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHA?. 

the  general  plane  of  the  branch,  which  bends 
slightly  at  each  internode.  The  basal  half  of 
the  leaf  fits  the  swell  of 
the  twig,  while  the  upper 
half  follows  the  edge  of 
the  leaf  above  ;  and  the 
form  of  the  inner  edge 
being  thus  determined, 
decides  that  of  the  outer 
one  also. 

The  weight,  and  con- 
sequently the  size  of  the 
leaf,  is  limited  by  the 
strength  of  the  twig ;  and, 
again,  in  a  climate  such  as 
ours  it  is  important  to  plants  to  have  their 
.leaves  so  arranged  as  to  secure  the  maximum 
of  light.  Hence  in  leaves  which  lie  parallel  to 
the  plane  of  the  boughs,  as  in  the  Beech,  the 
width  depends  partly  on  the  distance  between 
the  buds;  if  the  leaves  were  broader,  they 
would  overlap,  if  they  were  narrower,  space 
would  be  wasted.  Consequently  the  width 
being  determined  by  the  distance  between  the 
buds,  and  the  size  depending  on  the  weight 


TV  ON  PLANT  LIFE  141 

which  the  twig  can  safely  support,  the  length 
also  is  determined.  This  argument  is  well 
illustrated  by  comparing  the  leaves  of  the 
Beech  with  those  of  the  Spanish  Chestnut. 
The  arrangement  is  similar,  and  the  distance 
between  the  buds  being  about  the  same,  so  is 
the  width  of  the  leaves.  But  the  terminal 
branches  of  the  Spanish  Chestnut  being  much 
stronger,  the  leaves  can  safely  be  heavier ; 
hence  the  width  being  fixed,  they  grow  in 
length  and  assume  the  well-known  and 
peculiar  sword-blade  shape. 

In  the  Sycamores,  Maples  (Fig.  16),  and 
Horse-Chestnuts  the  arrangement  is  altogether 
different.  The  shoots  are  stiff  and  upright 
with  leaves  placed  at  right  angles  to  the 
branches  instead  of  being  parallel  to  them. 
The  leaves  are  in  pairs  and  decussate  with 
one  another ;  while  the  lower  ones  have  long 
petioles  which  bring  them  almost  to  the  level 
of  the  upper  pairs,  the  whole  thus  forming  a 
beautiful  dome. 

For  leaves  arranged  as  in  the  Beech  the 
gentle  swell  at  the  base  is  admirably  suited ; 
but  in  a  crown  of  leaves  such  as  those  of  the 


142  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

Sycamore,  space  would  be  wasted,  and  it  is 
better  that  they  should  expand  at  once,  so 
soon  as  their  stalks  have  carried  them  free 
from  the  upper  and  inner  leaves. 

In  the  Black  Poplar  the  arrangement  of 
the  leaves  is  again  quite  different.  The  leaf 
stalk  is  flattened,  so  that  the  leaves  hang 


Fig.  16. —  Acer  platanoides. 

vertically.  In  connection  with  this  it  will 
be  observed  that  while  in  most  leaves  the 
upper  and  under  surfaces  are  quite  unlike,  in 
the  Black  Poplar  on  the  contrary  they  are 
very  similar.  The  stomata  or  breathing  holes, 
moreover,  which  in  the  leaves  of  most  trees 
are  confined  to  the  under  surface,  are  in  this 
species  nearly  equally  numerous  on  both. 


iv  ON  PLANT   LIFE  143 

The  "Compass"  Plant  of  the  American 
prairies,  a  plant  not  unlike  a  small  sunflower, 
is  another  species  with  upright  leaves,  which 
growing  in  the  wide  open  prairies  tend  to  point 
north  and  south,  thus  exposing  both  surfaces 
equally  to  the  light  and  heat.  Such  a  position 
also  affects  the  internal  structure  of  the  leaf, 
the  two  sides  becoming  similar  in  structure, 
while  in  other  cases  the  upper  and  under 
surfaces  are  very  different. 

In  the  Yew  the  leaves  are  inserted  close 
to  one  another,  and  are  linear ;  while  in  the 
Box  they  are  further  apart  and  broader. 
In  other  cases  the  width  of  the  leaves  is 
determined  by  what  botanists  call  the  "  Phyl- 
lotaxy."  Some  plants  have  the  leaves  oppo- 
site, each  pair  being  at  right  angles  with  the 
pairs  above  and  below. 

In  others  they  are  alternate,  and  arranged 
round  the  stem  in  a  spiral.  In  one  very 
common  arrangement  the  sixth  leaf  stands 
directly  over  the  first,  the  intermediate  ones 
forming  a  spiral  which  has  passed  twice  round 
the  stem.  This,  therefore,  is  known  as  the 
f  arrangement.  Common  cases  are  J,  ^,  f,  f , 


144  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

and  T%.  In  the  first  the  leaves  are  generally 
broad,  in  the  f  arrangement  they  are  elliptic, 
in  the  3%  and  more  complicated  arrangements 
nearly  linear.  The  Willows  afford  a  very 
interesting  series.  Salix  herbacea  has  the  ^ 
arrangement  and  rounded  leaves,  Salix  caprea 
elliptic  leaves  and  f,  Salix  pentandra  lancet- 
shaped  leaves  and  f ,  and  S.  incana  linear  leaves 
and  a  T%  arrangement.  The  result  is  that 
whether  the  series  consists  of  2,  3,  5,  8,  or  13 
leaves,  in  every  case,  if  we  look  perpendicu- 
larly at  a  twig  the  leaves  occupy  the  whole 
circle. 

In  herbaceous  plants  upright  leaves  as  a 
rule  are  narrow,  which  is  obviously  an  advan- 
tage, while  prostrate  ones  are  broad. 


AQUATIC    PLANTS 

Many  aquatic  plants  have  two  kinds  of 
leaves  ;  some  more  or  less  rounded,  which 
float  on  the  surface  ;  and  others  cut  up  into 
narrow  segments,  which  remain  below.  The 
latter  thus  present  a  greater  extent  of  surface. 


iv  ON   PLANT   LIFE  145 

In  air  such  leaves  would  be  unable  even  to 
support  their  own  weight,  much  less  to 
resist  the  force  of  the  wind.  In  still  air, 
however,  for  the  same  reason,  finely-divided 
leaves  may  be  an  advantage,  while  in  exposed 
positions  compact  and  entire  leaves  are  more 
suitable.  Hence  herbaceous  plants  tend  to 
have  divided,  bushes  and  trees  entire,  leaves. 
There  are  many  cases  when  even  in  the  same 
family  low  and  herb-like  species  have  finely- 
cut  leaves,  while  in  shrubby  or  ligneous  ones 
they  more  or  less  resemble  those  of  the  Laurel 
or  Beech. 

These  considerations  affect  trees  more  than 
herbs,  because  trees  stand  more  alone,  while 
herbaceous  plants  are  more  affected  by  sur- 
rounding plants.  Upright  leaves  tend  to  be 
narrow,  as  in  the  case  of  grasses ;  horizontal 
leaves,  on  the  contrary,  wider.  Large  leaves 
are  more  or  less  broken  up  into  leaflets, 
as  in  the  Ash,  Mountain-Ash,  Horse-Chest- 
nut, etc. 

The  forms  of  leaves  depend  also  much  on 
the-  manner  in  which  they  are  packed  into  the 
buds. 


146  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

The  leaves  of  our  English  trees,  as  I  have 
already  said,  are  so  arranged  as  to  secure  the 
maximum  of  light ;  in  very  hot  countries  the 
reverse  is  the  case.  Hence,  in  Australia,  for 
instance,  the  leaves  are  arranged  not  hori- 
zontally, but  vertically,  so  as  to  present,  not 
their  surfaces,  but  their  edges,  to  the  sun. 
One  English  plant,  a  species  of  lettuce,  has 
the  same  habit.  This  consideration  has  led 
also  to  other  changes.  In  many  species  the 
leaves  are  arranged  directly  under,  so  as  to 
shelter,  one  another.  The  Australian  species 
of  Acacia  have  lost  their  true  leaves,  and 
the  parts  which  in  them  we  generally  call 
leaves  are  in  reality  vertically-flattened  leaf 
stalks. 

In  other  cases  the  stem  itself  is  green,  and 
to  some  extent  replaces  the  leaves.  In  our 
common  Broom  we  see  an  approach  to  this, 
and  the  same  feature  is  more  marked  in 
Cactus.  Or  the  leaves  become  fleshy,  thus 
offering,  in  proportion  to  their  volume,  a 
smaller  surface  for  evaporation.  Of  this  the 
Stonecrops,  Mesembryanthemum,  etc.,  are 
familiar  instances.  Other  modes  of  checking 


iv  ON  PLANT   LIFE  147 

transpiration  and  thus  adapting  plants  to  dry 
situations  are  by  the  development  of  hairs, 
by  the  formation  of  chalky  excretions,  by 
the  sap  becoming  saline  or  viscid,  by  the  leaf 
becoming  more  or  less  rolled  up,  or  protected 
by  a  covering  of  varnish. 

Our  English  trees  are  for  the  most  part 
deciduous.  Leaves  would  be  comparatively 
useless  in  winter  when  growth  is  stopped  by 
the  cold ;  moreover,  they  would  hold  the 
snow,  and  thus  cause  the  boughs  to  be  broken 
down.  Hence  perhaps  the  glossiness  of  Ever- 
green leaves,  as,  for  instance,  of  the  Holly, 
from  which  the  snow  slips  off.  In  warmer 
climates  trees  tend  to  retain  their  leaves,  and 
some  species  which  are  deciduous  in  the  north 
become  evergreen,  or  nearly  so,  in  the  south 
of  Europe.  Evergreen  leaves  are  as  a  rule 
tougher  and  thicker  than  those  which  drop  off 
in  autumn  ;  they  require  more  protection  from 
the  weather.  But  some  evergreen  leaves  are 
much  longer  lived  than  others  ;  those  of  the 
Evergreen  Oak  do  not  survive  a  second  year, 
those  of  the  Scotch  Pine  live  for  three,  of  the 
Spruce  Fir,  Yew,  etc.,  for  eight  or  ten,  of  the 


148  THE  BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

Pinsapo  even  eighteen.  As  a  general  rule 
the  Conifers  with  short  leaves  keep  them  on 
for  several  years,  those  with  long  ones  for 
fewer,  the  length  of  the  leaf  being  somewhat 
in  the  inverse  ratio  to  the  length  of  its  life  ; 
but  this  is  not  an  invariable  criterion,  as  other 
circumstances  also  have  to  be  taken  into  con- 
sideration. 

Leaves  with  strong  scent,  aromatic  taste,  or 
acrid  juice,  are  characteristic  of  dry  regions, 
where  they  run  especial  danger  of  being  eaten, 
and  where  they  are  thus  more  or  less  effec- 
tively protected. 

ON    HAIRS 

The  hairs  of  plants  are  useful  in  various 
ways.  In  some  cases  (1)  they  keep  off  super- 
fluous moisture ;  in  others  (2)  they  prevent 
too  rapid  evaporation  ;  in  some  (3)  they  serve 
as  a  protection  against  too  glaring  light ;  in 
some  (4)  they  protect  the  plant  from  brows- 
ing quadrupeds ;  in  others  (5)  from  being 
eaten  by  insects  ;  or,  (6)  serve  as  a  quickset 
hedge  to  prevent  access  to  the  flowers. 


iv  ON  PLANT  LIFE  149 

In  illustration  of  the  first  case  I  may  refer 
to  many  alpine  plants,  the  well-known  Edel- 
weiss, for  instance,  where  the  woolly  covering 
of  hairs  prevents  the  "  stomata,"  or  minute 
pores  leading  into  the  interior  of  the  leaf, 
from  being  clogged  up  by  rain,  dew,  or  fog, 
and  thus  enable  them  to  fulfil  their  functions 
as  soon  as  the  sun  comes  out. 

As  regards  the  second  case  many  desert  and 
steppe-plants  are  covered  with  felty  hairs, 
which  serve  to  prevent  too  rapid  evaporation 
and  consequent  loss  of  moisture. 

The  woolly  hairy  leaves  of  the  Mulleins 
(Verbascum)  doubtless  tend  to  protect  them 
from  being  eaten,  as  also  do  the  spines  of 
Thistles,  and  those  of  Hollies,  which,  be  it 
remarked,  gradually  disappear  on  the  upper 
leaves  which  browsing  quadrupeds  cannot 
reach. 

I  have  already  alluded  to  the  various  ways 
in  which  flowers  are  adapted  to  fertilisation 
by  insects.  But  Ants  and  other  small  creep- 
ing insects  cannot  effectually  secure  this  object. 
Hence  it  is  important  that  they  should  be  ex- 
cluded, and  not  allowed  to  carry  off  the  honey, 


150  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

for  which  they  would  perform  no  service  in 
return.  In  many  cases-,  therefore,  the  open- 
ing of  the  flower  is  either  contracted  to  a 
narrow  passage,  or  is  itself  protected  by  a 
fringe  of  hairs.  In  others  the  peduncle,  or 
the  stalk  of  the  plant,  is  protected  by  a  hedge, 
or  chevaux  de  frise,  of  hairs. 

In  this  connection  I  might  allude  to  the 
many  plants  which  are  more  or  less  viscid. 
This  also  is  in  most  cases  a  provision  to  pre- 
clude creeping  insects  from  access  to  the 
flowers. 

There  are  various  other  kinds  of  hairs  to 
which  I  might  refer  —  glandular  hairs,  secre- 
tive hairs,  absorbing  hairs,  etc.  It  is  marvel- 
lous how  beautifully  the  form  and  structure 
of  leaves  is  adapted  to  the  habits  and  require- 
ments of  the  plants,  but  I  must  not  enlarge 
further  on  this  interesting  subject. 

The  time  indeed  will  no  doubt  come  when 
we  shall  be  able  to  explain  every  difference  of 
form  and  structure,  almost  infinite  as  these 
differences  are. 


iv  ON  PLANT  LIFE  151 


INFLUENCE    OF    SOIL 

The  character  of  the  vegetation  is  of  course 
greatly  influenced  by  that  of  the  soil.  In  this 
respect  granitic  and  calcareous  regions  offer 
perhaps  the  best  marked  contrast. 

There  are  in  Switzerland  two  kinds  of 
Rhododendrons,  very  similar  in  their  flowers, 
but  contrasted  in  their  leaves  :  Rhododendron 
hirsuturn  having  them  hairy  at  the  edges  as 
the  name  indicates ;  while  in  R.  ferrugineum 
they  are  rolled,  but  not  hairy,  at  the  edges, 
and  become  ferrugineous  on  the  lower  side. 
This  species  occurs  in  the  granitic  regions, 
where  R.  hirsutum  does  not  grow. 

The  Yarrows  (Achillea)  afford  us  a  similar 
case.  Achillea  atrata  and  A.  moschata  will 
live  either  on  calcareous  or  granitic  soil,  but 
in  a  district  where  both  occur,  A.  atrata  grows 
so  much  the  more  vigorously  of  the  two  if  the 
soil  is  calcareous  that  it  soon  exterminates 
A.  moschata;  while  in  granite  districts,  on 
the  contrary,  A.  moschata  is  victorious  and 
A.  atrata  disappears. 


152  THE  BEAUTIES  OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

Every  keen  sportsman  will  admit  that  a 
varied  "  bag "  has  a  special  charm,  and  the 
botanist  in  a  summer's  walk  may  see  at  least 
a  hundred  plants  in  flower,  all  with  either  the 
interest  of  novelty,  or  the  charm  of  an  old 
friend. 

ON  SEEDLINGS 

In  many  cases  the  Seedlings  afford  us  an 
interesting  insight  into  the  former  condition 
of  the  plant.  Thus  the  leaves  of  the  Furze 
are  reduced  to  thorns ;  but  those  of  the  Seed- 
ling are  herbaceous  and  trifoliate  like  those  of 
the  Herb  Genet  and  other  allied  species,  sub- 
sequent ones  gradually  passing  into  spines. 
This  is  evidence  that  the  ancestors  of  the 
Furze  bore  leaves. 

Plants  may  be  said  to  have  their  habits  as 
well  as  animals. 

SLEEP    OF    PLANTS 

Many  flowers  close  their  petals  during 
rain ;  the  advantage  of  which  is  that  it  pre- 
vents the  honey  and  pollen  from  being  spoilt 


iv  ON  PLANT   LIFE  153 

or  washed  away.  Everybody,  however,  has 
observed  that  even  in  fine  weather  certain 
flowers  close  at  particular  hours.  This  habit 
of  going  to  sleep  is  surely  very  curious.  Why 
should  flowers  do  so  ?  In  animals  we  can 
better  understand  it ;  they  are  tired  and 
require  rest.  But  why  should  flowers  sleep  ? 
Why  should  some  flowers  do  so,  and  not 
others  ?  Moreover,  different  flowers  keep 
different  hours.  The  Daisy  opens  at  sunrise 
and  closes  at  sunset,  whence  its  name  "day's- 
eye.?>  The  Dandelion  (Leontodon)  is  said  to 
open  about  seven  and  to  close  about  five ; 
Arenaria  rubra  to  be  open  from  nine  to  three ; 
the  White  Water  Lily  (Nymph sea),  from  about 
seven  to  four  ;  the  common  Mouse-ear  Hawk- 
weed  (Hieracium)  from  eight  to  three ;  the 
Scarlet  Pimpernel  (Anagallis)  to  waken  at 
seven  and  close  soon  after  two ;  Tragopogon 
pratensis  to  open  at  four  in  the  morning, 
and  close  just  before  twelve,  whence  its 
English  name,  "John  go  to  bed  at  noon." 
Farmers'  boys  in  some  parts  are  said  to  regu- 
late their  dinner  time  by  it.  Other  flowers, 
on  the  contrary,  open  in  the  evening. 


154  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

Now  it  is  obvious  that  flowers  which  are 
fertilised  by  night-flying  insects  would  derive 
no  advantage  from  being  open  by  day ;  and 
on  the  other  hand,  that  those  which  are 
fertilised  by  bees  would  gain  nothing  by 
being  open  at  night.  Nay  it  would  be  a 
distinct  disadvantage,  because  it  would  render 
them  liable  to  be  robbed  of  their  honey  and 
pollen,  by  insects  which  are  not  capable  of 
fertilising  them.  I  have  ventured  to  suggest 
then  that  the  closing  of  flowers  may  have 
reference  to  the  habits  of  insects,  and  it  may 
be  observed  also  in  support  of  this,  that  wind- 
fertilised  flowers  do  not  sleep;  and  that  many 
of  those  flowers  which  attract  insects  by 
smell,  open  and  emit  their  scent  at  particular 
hours  ;  thus  Hesperis  matronalis  and  Lychnis 
vespertina  smell  in  the  evening,  and  Orchis 
bifolia  is  particularly  sweet  at  night. 

But  it  is  not  the  flowers  only  which 
"  sleep  "  at  night ;  in  many  species  the  leaves 
also  change  their  position,  and  Darwin  has 
given  strong  reasons  for  considering  that  the 
object  is  to  check  transpiration  and  thus  tend 
to  a  protection  against  cold. 


iv  ON  PLANT  LIFE  155 


BEHAVIOUR     OF    LEAVES     IN    RAIN 

The  behaviour  of  plants  with  reference  to 
rain  affords  many  points  of  much  interest. 
The  Germander  Speedwell  (Veronica)  has  two 
strong  rows  of  hairs,  the  Chickweed  (Stellaria) 
one,  running  down  the  stem  and  thus  conduct- 
ing the  rain  to  the  roots.  Plants  with  a  main 
tap-root,  like  the  Radish  or  the  Beet,  have 
leaves  sloping  inwards  so  as  to  conduct  the 
rain  towards  the  axis  of  the  plant,  and  con- 
sequently to  the  roots  ;  while,  on  the  contrary, 
where  the  roots  are  spreading  the  leaves  slope 
outwards. 

In  other  cases  the  leaves  hold  the  rain  or 
dew  drops.  Every  one  who  has  been  in  the 
Alps  must  have  noticed  how  the  leaves  of  the 
Lady's  Mantle  (Alchemilla)  form  little  cups 
containing  each  a  sparkling  drop  of  icy  water. 
Kerner  has  suggested  that  owing  to  these  cold 
drops,  the  cattle  and  sheep  avoid  the  leaves. 


156  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE 


MIMICRY 

In  many  cases  plants  mimic  others  which 
are  better  protected  than  themselves.  Thus 
Matricaria  Chamomilla  mimics  the  true  Cham- 
omile,  which  from  its  bitterness  is  not  eaten 
by  quadrupeds.  Ajuga  Chamsepitys  mimics 
Euphorbia  Cyparissias,  with  which  it  often 
grows,  and  which  is  protected  by  its  acrid 
juice.  The  most  familiar  case,  however,  is 
that  of  the  Stinging  and  the  Dead  Nettles. 
They  very  generally  grow  together,  and 
though  belonging  to  quite  different  families 
are  so  similar  that  they  are  constantly  mis- 
taken f©r  one  another.  Some  Orchids  have  a 
curious  resemblance  to  insects,  after  which 
they  have  accordingly  been  named  the  Bee 
Orchis,  Fly  Orchis,  Butterfly  Orchis,  etc.,  but 
it  has  not  yet  been  satisfactorily  shown  what 
advantage  the  resemblance  is  to  the  plant. 

ANTS    AND    PLANTS 

The  transference  of  pollen  from  plant  to 


iv  OK  PLANT  LIFE  157 

plant  is  by  no  means  the  only  service  which 
insects  render. 

Ants,  for  instance,  are  in  many  cases  very 
useful  to  plants.  They  destroy  immense 
numbers  of  caterpillars  and  other  insects. 
Forel  observing  a  large  Ants'  nest  counted 
more  than  28  insects  brought  in  as  food  per 
minute.  In  some  cases  Ants  attach  them- 
selves to  particular  trees,  constituting  a  sort 
of  bodyguard.  A  species  of  Acacia,  described 
by  Belt,  bears  hollow  thorns,  while  each  leaflet 
produces  honey  in  a  crater-formed  gland  at 
the  base,  as  well  as  a  small,  sweet,  pear- 
shaped  body  at  the  tip.  In  consequence  it 
is  inhabited  by  myriads  of  a  small  ant,  which 
nests  in  the  hollow  thorns,  and  thus  finds 
meat,  drink,  and  lodging  all  provided  for  it. 
These  ants  are  continually  roaming  over  the 
plant,  and  constitute  a  most  efficient  body- 
guard, not  only  driving  off  the  leaf-eating 
ants,  but,  in  Belt's  opinion,  rendering  the 
leaves  less  liable  to  be  eaten  by  herbivorous 
mammalia.  Delpino  mentions  that  on  one 
occasion  he  was  gathering  a  flower  of  Clero- 
dendrum,  when  he  was  himself  suddenly 
attacked  by  a  whole  army  of  small  ants. 


158  THE   BEAUTIES   OP  NATURE 


INSECTIVOROUS    PLANTS 

In  the  cases  above  mentioned  the  relation 
between  flowers  and  insects  is  one  of  mutual 
advantage.  But  this  is  by  no  means  an  in- 
variable rule.  Many  insects,  as  we  all  know, 
live  on  plants,  but  it  came  upon  botanists  as  a 
surprise  when  our  countryman  Ellis  first  dis- 
covered that  some  plants  catch  and  devour  in- 
sects. This  he  observed  in  a  North  American 
plant  Dionaea,  the  leaves  of  which  are  formed 
something  like  a  rat-trap,  with  a  hinge  in  the 
middle,  and  a  formidable  row  of  spines  round 
the  edge.  On  the  surface  are  a  few  very  sen- 
sitive hairs,  and  the  moment  any  small  insect 
alights  on  the  leaf  and  touches  one  of  these 
hairs  the  two  halves  of  the  leaf  close  up 
quickly  and  catch  it.  The  surface  then  throws 
out  a  glutinous  secretion,  by  means  of  which 
the  leaf  sucks  up  the  nourishment  contained 
in  the  insect. 

Our  common  Sun-dews  (Drosera)  are  also 
insectivorous,  the  prey  being  in  their  case 


iv  ON  PLANT   LIFE  159 

captured  by  glutinous  hairs.  Again,  the  Blad- 
derwort  (Utricularia),  a  plant  with  pretty 
yellow  flowers,  growing  in  pools  and  slow 
streams,  is  so  called  because  it  bears  a  great 
number  of  bladders  or  utricles,  each  of  which 
is  a  real  miniature  eel-trap,  having  an  orifice 
guarded  by  a  flap  opening  inwards  which 
allows  small  water  animals  to  enter,  but  pre- 
vents them  from  coming  out  again.  The 
Butterwort  (Pinguicula)  is  another  of  these 
carnivorous  plants. 


MOVEMENTS    OF    PLANTS 

While  considering  Plant  life  we  must  by 
no  means  confine  our  attention  to  the  higher 
orders,  but  must  remember  also  those  lower 
groups  which  converge  towards  the  lower 
forms  of  animals,  so  that  in  the  present  state 
of  our  knowledge  the  two  cannot  always  be 
distinguished  with  certainty.  Many  of  them 
differ  indeed  greatly  from  the  ordinary  con- 
ception of  a  plant.  Even  the  comparatively 
highly  organised  Seaweeds  multiply  by  means 


160  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

of  bodies  called  spores,  which  an  untrained 
observer  would  certainly  suppose  to  be  animals. 
They  are  covered  by  vibratile  hairs  or  "  cilia," 
by  means  of  which  they  swim  about  freely  in 
the  water,  and  even  possess  a  red  spot  which, 
as  being  especially  sensitive  to  light,  may  be 
regarded  as  an  elementary  eye,  and  with  the 
aid  of  which  they  select  some  suitable  spot,  to 
which  they  ultimately  attach  themselves. 

It  was  long  considered  as  almost  a  charac- 
teristic of  plants  that  they  possessed  no  power 
of  movement.  This  is  now  known  to  be  an 
error.  In  fact,  as  Darwin  has  shown,  every 
growing  part  of  a  plant  is  in  continual  and 
even  constant  rotation.  The  stems  of  climb- 
ing plants  make  great  sweeps,  and  in  other 
cases,  when  the  motion  is  not  so  apparent,  it 
nevertheless  really  exists.  I  have  already 
mentioned  that  many  plants  change  the  posi- 
tion of  their  leaves  or  flowers,  or,  as  it  is 
called,  sleep  at  night. 

The  common  Dandelion  raises  its  head 
when  the  florets  open,  opens  and  shuts  morn- 
ing and  evening,  then  lies  down  again  while 
the  seeds  are  ripening,  and  raises  itself  a 


iv  ON  PLANT  LIFE  161 

second  time  when  they  are  ready  to  be  carried 
away  by  the  wind. 

Valisneria  spiralis  is  a  very  interesting  case. 
It  is  a  native  of  European  rivers,  and  the 
female  flower  has  a  long  spiral  stalk  which 
enables  it  to  float  on  the  surface  of  the  water. 
The  male  flowers  have  no  stalks,  and  grow 
low  down  on  the  plant.  They  soon,  however, 
detach  themselves  altogether,  rise  to  the  sur- 
face, and  thus  are  enabled  to  fertilise  the 
female  flowers  among  which  they  float.  The 
spiral  stalk  of  the  female  flower  then  contracts 
and  draws  it  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  water 
so  that  the  seeds  may  ripen  in  safety.  Many 
plants  throw  or  bury  their  seeds. 

The  sensitive  plants  close  their  leaves  when 
touched,  and  the  leaflets  of  Desmodium  gyrans 
are  continually  revolving.  I  have  already 
mentioned  that  the  spores  of  seaweeds  swim 
freely  in  the  water  by  means  of  cilia.  Some 
microscopic  plants  do  so  throughout  a  great 
part  of  their  lives. 

A  still  lower  group,  the  Myxomycetes, 
which  resemble  small,  more  or  less  branched, 
masses  of  jelly,  and  live  in  damp  soil,  among 


162  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

decaying  leaves,  under  bark  and  in  similar 
moist  situations,  are  still  more  remarkably 
animal  like.  They  are  never  fixed,  but  in 
almost  continual  movement,  due  to  differences 
of  moisture,  warmth,  light,  or  chemical  action. 
If,  for  instance,  a  moist  body  is  brought  into 
contact  with  one  of  their  projections,  or 
"  pseudopods,"  the  protoplasm  seems  to  roll 
itself  in  that  direction,  and  so  the  whole 
organism  gradually  changes  its  place.  So 
again,  while  a  solution  of  salt,  carbonate  of 
potash,  or  saltpetre  causes  them  to  withdraw 
from  the  danger,  an  infusion  of  sugar,  or  tan, 
produces  a  flow  of  protoplasm  towards  the 
source  of  nourishment.  In  fact,  in  the  same 
way  it  rolls  over  and  round  its  food,  absorbing 
what  is  nutritious  as  it  passes  along.  In  cold 
weather  they  descend  into  the  soil,  and  one 
of  them  (OEthalium),  which  lives  in  tan  pits, 
descends  in  winter  to  a  depth  of  several 
feet.  When  about  to  fructify  it  changes  its 
habits,  seeks  the  light  instead  of  avoiding  it, 
climbs  upwards,  and  produces  its  fruit  above 
ground. 


iv  ON  PLANT  LIFE  163 


IMPERFECTION    OF    OUR   KNOWLEDGE 

The  total  number  of  living  species  of 
plants  may  be  roughly  estimated  at  500,000, 
and  there  is  not  one,  of  which  we  can 
say  that  the  structure,  uses,  and  life-history 
are  yet  fully  known  to  us.  Our  museums 
contain  large  numbers  which  botanists  have 
not  yet  had  time  to  describe  and  name. 
Even  in  our  own  country  not  a  year  passes 
without  some  additional  plant  being  discov- 
ered ;  as  regards  the  less  known  regions  of 
the  earth  not  half  the  species  have  yet  been 
collected.  Among  the  Lichens  and  Fungi 
especially  many  problems  of  their  life-history, 
some,  indeed,  of  especial  importance  to  man, 
still  await  solution. 

Our  knowledge  of  the  fossil  forms,  more- 
over, falls  far  short  even  of  that  of  existing 
species,  which,  on  the  other  hand,  they  must 
have  greatly  exceeded  in  number.  Every 
difference  of  form,  structure,  and  colour  has 
doubtless  some  cause  and  explanation,  so  that 
the  field  for  research  is  really  inexhaustible. 


CHAPTER   V 

WOODS   AND  FIELDS 


"  By  day  or  by  night,  summer  or  winter,  beneath  trees 
the  heart  feels  nearer  to  that  depth  of  life  which  the  far  sky 
means.  The  rest  of  spirit,  found  only  in  beauty,  ideal  and 
pure,  comes  there  because  the  distance  seems  within  touch 
of  thought."  JEFFERIES. 


CHAPTER   Y 

WOODS  AND  FIELDS 

RURAL  life,  says  Cicero, "  is  not  delightful 
by  reason  of  cornfields  only  and  meadows,  and 
vineyards  and  groves,  but  also  for  its  gardens 
and  orchards,  for  the  feeding  of  cattle,  the 
swarms  of  bees,  and  the  variety  of  all  kinds  of 
flowers."  Bacon  considered  that  a  garden  is 
"the  greatest  refreshment  to  the  spirits  of 
man,  without  which  buildings  and  palaces 
are  but  gross  handyworks,  and  a  man  shall 
ever  see,  that  when  ages  grow  to  civility  and 
elegancy  men  come  to  build  stately  sooner 
than  to  garden  finely,  as  if  gardening  were 
the  greater  perfection." 

No  doubt  "  the  pleasure  which  we  take  in  a 
garden  is  one  of  the  most  innocent  delights  in 
human  life."1  Elsewhere  there  may  be  scat- 

1  The  Spectator. 

167 


168  THE  BEAUTIES  OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

tered  flowers,  or  sheets  of  colour  due  to  one  or 
two  species,  but  in  gardens  one  glory  follows 
another.  Here  are  brought  together  all  the 

quaint  enamelled  eyes, 

That  on  the  green  turf  sucked  the  honeyed  showers, 
And  purple  all  the  ground  with  vernal  flowers. 
Bring  the  rathe  primrose  that  forsaken  dies, 
The  tufted  crow-toe,  and  pale  jessamine, 
The  white  pink  and  the  pansy  freaked  with  jet, 
The  glowing  violet, 

The  musk  rose,  and  the  well  attired  woodbine, 
With  cowslips  wan  that  hang  the  pensive  head, 
And  every  flower  that  sad  embroidery  wears.1 

We  cannot,  happily  we  need  not  try  to, 
contrast  or  compare  the  beauty  of  gardens 
with  that  of  woods  and  fields. 

And  yet  to  the  true  lover  of  Nature  wild 
flowers  have  a  charm  which  no  garden  can 
equal.  Cultivated  plants  are  but  a  living 
herbarium.  They  surpass,  no  doubt,  the 
dried  specimens  of  a  museum,  but,  lovely  as 
they  are,  they  can  be  no  more  compared  with 
the  natural  vegetation  of  our  woods  and  fields 
than  the  captives  in  the  Zoological  Gardens 
with  the  same  wild  species  in  their  native 
forests  and  mountains. 

1  Milton. 


V  WOODS   AND   FIELDS  169 

Often  indeed,  our  woods  and  fields  rival 
gardens  even  in  the  richness  of  colour.  We 
have  all  seen  meadows  white  with  Narcissus, 
glowing  with  Buttercups,  Cowslips,  early 
purple  Orchis,  or  Cuckoo  Flowers ;  cornfields 
blazing  with  Poppies;  woods  carpeted  with 
Bluebells,  Anemones,  Primroses,  and  Forget- 
me-nots  ;  commons  with  the  yellow  Lady's 
Bedstraw,  Harebells,  and  the  sweet  Thyme ; 
marshy  places  with  the  yellow  stars  of  the 
Bog  Asphodel,  the  Sun-dew  sparkling  with 
diamonds,  Ragged  Robin,  the  beautifully 
fringed  petals  of  the  Buckbean,  the  lovely 
little  Bog  Pimpernel,  or  the  feathery  tufts  of 
Cotton  Grass  ;  hedgerows  with  Hawthorn  and 
Traveller's  Joy,  Wild  Rose  and  Honeysuckle, 
while  underneath  are  the  curious  leaves  and 
orange  fruit  of  the  Lords  and  Ladies,  the 
snowy  stars  of  the  Stitchwort,  Succory,  Yar- 
row, and  several  kinds  of  Violets ;  while  all 
along  the  banks  of  streams  are  the  tall  red 
spikes  of  the  Loosestrife,  the  Hemp  Agrimony, 
Water  Groundsel,  Sedges,  Bulrushes,  Flower- 
ing Rush,  Sweet  Flag,  etc. 

Many  other  sweet  names  will  also  at  once 


170  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

occur  to  us  —  Snowdrops,  Daffodils  and  Hearts- 
ease, Lady's  Mantles  and  Lady's  Tresses, 
Eyebright,  Milkwort,  Foxgloves,  Herb  Roberts, 
Geraniums,  and  among  rarer  species,  at  least 
in  England,  Columbines  and  Lilies. 

But  Nature  does  not  provide  delights  for 
the  eye  only.  The  other  senses  are  not  for- 
gotten. A  thousand  sounds  —  many  delight- 
ful in  themselves,  and  all  by  association  — 
songs  of  birds,  hum  of  insects,  rustle  of  leaves, 
ripple  of  water,  seem  to  fill  the  air. 

Flowers  again  are  sweet,  as  well  as  lovely. 
The  scent  of  pine  woods,  which  is  said  to 
be  very  healthy,  is  certainly  delicious,  and 
the  effect  of  Woodland  scenery  is  good  for 
the  mind  as  well  as  for  the  body. 

"Resting  quietly  under  an  ash  tree,  with 
the  scent  of  flowers,  and  the  odour  of  green 
buds  and  leaves,  a  ray  of  sunlight  yonder 
lighting  up  the  lichen  and  the  moss  on  the 
oak  trunk,  a  gentle  air  stirring  in  the  branches 
above,  giving  glimpses  of  fleecy  clouds  sailing 
in  the  ether,  there  comes  into  the  mind  a  feel- 
ing of  intense  joy  in  the  simple  fact  of  living."  l 

1  Jefferies. 


v  WOODS   AND   FIELDS  171 

The  wonderful  phenomenon  of  phospho- 
rescence is  not  a  special  gift  to  the  animal  king- 
dom. Henry  0.  Forbes  describes  a  forest  in 
Sumatra  :  "  The  stem  of  every  tree  blinked 
with  a  pale  greenish-white  light  which  un- 
dulated also  across  the  surface  of  the  ground 
like  moonlight  coming  and  going  behind  the 
clouds,  from  a  minute  thread-like  fungus  in- 
visible in  the  day-time  to  the  unassisted  eye  ; 
and  here  and  there  thick  dumpy  mushrooms 
displayed  a  sharp,  clear  dome  of  light,  whose 
intensity  never  varied  or  changed  till  the  break 
of  day ;  long  phosphorescent  caterpillars -and 
centipedes  crawled  out  of  every  corner,  leaving 
a  trail  of  light  behind  them,  while  fire-flies 
darted  about  above  like  a  lower  firmament."  * 

Woods  and  Forests  were  to  our  ancestors 
the  special  scenes  of  enchantment. 

The  great  Ash  tree  Yggdrasil  bound  to- 
gether Heaven,  Earth,  and  Hell.  Its  top 
reached  to  Heaven,  its  branches  covered  the 
Earth,  and  the  roots  penetrated  into  Hell. 
The  three  Normas  or  Fates  sat  under  it,  spin- 
ning the  thread  of  life. 

1  Forbes,  A  Naturalist's  Wanderings  in  the  Eastern  Archi- 
pelago. 


172  THE  BEAUTIES  OF  NATURE 

Of  all  the  gods  and  goddesses  of  classical 
mythology  or  our  own  folk-lore,  none  were 
more  fascinating  than  the  Nature  Spirits  — 
Elves  and  Fairies,  Neckans  and  Kelpies, 
Pixies  and  Ouphes,  Mermaids,  Undines,  Water 
Spirits,  and  all  the  Elfin  world 

Which  have  their  haunts  in  dale  and  piny  mountain, 
Or  forests,  by  slow  stream  or  tingling  brook. 

They  come  out,  as  we  are  told,  especially  on 
moonlight  nights.  But  while  evening  thus 
clothes  many  a  scene  with  poetry,  forests  are 
fairy  land  all  day  long. 

Almost  any  wood  contains  many  and  many 
a  spot  well  suited  for  Fairy  feasts  ;  where  one 
might  most  expect  to  find  Titania,  resting,  as 
once  we  are  told, 

She  lay  upon  a  bank,  the  favourite  haunt 
Of  the  Spring  wind  in  its  first  sunshine  hour, 
For  the  luxuriant  strawberry  blossoms  spread 
Like  a  snow  shower  then,  and  violets 
Bowed  down  their  purple  vases  of  perfume 
About  her  pillow,  —  linked  in  a  gay  band 
Floated  fantastic  shapes  ;  these  were  her  guards, 
Her  lithe  and  rainbow  elves. 

The  fairies  have  disappeared,  and,  so  far  as 


v  WOODS  AND  FIELDS  173 

England  is  concerned,  the  larger  forest 
animals  have  vanished  almost  as  completely. 
The  Elk  and  Bear,  the  Boar  and  Wolf  have 
gone,  the  Stag  has  nearly  disappeared,  and 
but  a  scanty  remnant  of  the  original  wild 
Cattle  linger  on  at  Chillingham.  Still  the 
woods  teem  with  life ;  the  Fox  and  Badger, 
Stoat  and  Weasel,  Hare  and  Rabbit,  and 
Hedgehog, 

The  tawny  squirrel  vaulting  through  the  boughs, 
Hawk,  buzzard,  jay,  the  mavis  and  the  merle,1 

the  Owls  and  Nightjar,  the  Woodpecker,  Nut- 
hatch, Magpie,  Doves,  and  a  hundred  more. 

In  early  spring  the  woods  are  bright  with 
the  feathery  catkins  of  the  Willow,  followed 
by  the  soft  green  of  the  Beech,  the  white  or 
pink  flowers  of  the  Thorn,  the  pyramids  of  the 
Horse-chestnut,  festoons  of  the  Laburnum  and 
Acacia,  and  the  Oak  slowly  wakes  from  its 
winter  sleep,  while  the  Ash  leaves  long  linger 
in  their  black  buds. 

Under  foot  is  a  carpet  of  flowers  —  Anem- 
ones, Cowslips,  Primroses,  Bluebells,  and 

1  Tennyson. 


174  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

the  golden  blossoms  of  the  Broom,  which, 
however,  while  Gorse  and  Heather  continue 
in  bloom  for  months,  "  blazes  for  a  week  or 
two,  and  is  then  completely  extinguished,  like 
a  fire  that  has  burnt  itself  out."  * 

In  summer  the  tints  grow  darker,  the  birds 
are  more  numerous  and  full  of  life ;  the  air 
teems  with  insects,  with  the  busy  murmur  of 
bees  and  the  idle  hum  of  flies,  while  the  cool 
of  morning  and  evening,  and  the  heat  of  the 
day,  are  all  alike  delicious. 

As  the  year  advances  and  the  flowers  wane, 
we  have  many  beautiful  fruits  and  berries, 
the  red  hips  and  haws  of  the  wild  roses, 
scarlet  holly  berries,  crimson  yew  cups,  the 
translucent  berries  of  the  Guelder  Kose, 
hanging  coral  beads  of  the  Black  Bryony, 
feathery  festoons  of  the  Traveller's  Joy,  and 
others  less  conspicuous,  but  still  exquisite  in 
themselves  —  acorns,  beech  nuts,  ash  keys,  and 
many  more.  It  is  really  difficult  to  say  which 
are  most  beautiful,  the  tender  greens  of  spring 
or  the  rich  tints  of  autumn,  which  glow  so 
brightly  in  the  sunshine. 

1  Hamerton. 


v  WOODS  AND   FIELDS  175 

Tropical  fruits  are  even  more  striking.  No 
one  who  has  seen  it  can  ever  forget  a  grove  of 
orange  trees  in  full  fruit ;  while  the  more  we 
examine  the  more  we  find  to  admire ;  all  per- 
fectly and  exquisitely  finished  "usque  ad 
ungues,"  perfect  inside  and  outside,  for 
Nature 

Does  in  the  Pomegranate  close 
Jewels  more  rare  than  Ormus  shows.1 

In  winter  the  woods  are  comparatively 
bare  and  lifeless,  even  the  Brambles  and 
Woodbine,  which  straggle  over  the  tangle  of 
underwood  being  almost  leafless. 

Still  even  then  they  have  a  beauty  and 
interest  of  their  own;  the  mossy  boles  of  the 
trees ;  the  delicate  tracery  of  the  branches 
which  can  hardly  be  appreciated  when  they 
are  covered  with  leaves ;  and  under  foot  the 
beds  of  fallen  leaves ;  while  the  evergreens 
seem  brighter  than  in  summer ;  the  ruddy 
stems  and  rich  green  foliage  of  the  Scotch 
Pines,  and  the  dark  spires  of  the  Firs,  seeming 
to  acquire  fresh  beauty. 

i  Marvell. 


176  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

Again  in  winter,  though  no  doubt  the 
living  tenants  of  the  woods  are  much  less 
numerous,  many  of  our  birds  being  then  far 
away  in  the  dense  African  forests,  on  the 
other  hand  those  which  remain  are  much 
more  easily  visible.  We  can  follow  the  birds 
from  tree  to  tree,  and  the  Squirrel  from 
bough  to  bough. 

It  requires  little  imagination  to  regard 
trees  as  conscious  beings,  indeed  it  is  almost 
an  effort  not  to  do  so. 

"  The  various  action  of  trees  rooting  them- 
selves in  inhospitable  rocks,  stooping  to  look 
into  ravines,  hiding  from  the  search  of  glacier 
winds,  reaching  forth  to  the  rays  of  rare  sun- 
shine, crowding  down  together  to  drink  at 
sweetest  streams,  climbing  hand  in  hand 
among  the  difficult  slopes,  opening  in  sudden 
dances  among  the  mossy  knolls,  gathering 
into  companies  at  rest  among  the  fragrant 
fields,  gliding  in  grave  procession  over  the 
heavenward  ridges  —  nothing  of  this  can  be 
conceived  among  the  unvexed  and  unvaried 
felicities  of  the  lowland  forest;  while  to  all 
these  direct  sources  of  greater  beauty  are 


v  WOODS  AND   FIELDS  177 

added,  first  the  power  of  redundance,  the 
mere  quantity  of  foliage  visible  in  the  folds 
and  on  the  promontories  of  a  single  Alp 
being  greater  than  that  of  an  entire  ]owland 
landscape  (unless  a  view  from  some  Cathedral 
tower) ;  and  to  this  charm  of  redundance,  that 
of  clearer  visibility  —  tree  after  tree  being  con- 
stantly shown  in  successive  height,  one  behind 
another,  instead  of  the  mere  tops  and  flanks 
of  masses  as  in  the  plains ;  and  the  forms  of 
multitudes  of  them  continually  defined  against 
the  clear  sky,  near  and  above,  or  against 
white  clouds  entangled  among  their  branches, 
instead  of  being  confused  in  dimness  of 
distance." l 

There  is  much  that  is  interesting  in  the 
relations  of  one  species  to  another.  Many 
plants  are  parasitic  upon  others.  The  foliage 
of  the  Beech  is  so  thick  that  scarcely  anything 
will  grow  under  it,  except  those  spring  plants, 
such  as  the  Anemone  and  the  Wood  Butter- 
cup or  Goldilocks,  which  flower  early  before 
the  Beech  is  in  leaf. 

There  are  other  cases  in  which  the  reason 

1  Ruskin. 


178  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

for  the  association  of  species  is  less  evident. 
The  Larch  and  the  Arolla  (Finns  Cembra) 
are  close  companions.  They  grow  together 
in  Siberia ;  they  do  not  occur  in  Scandinavia 
or  Russia,  but  both  reappear  in  certain  Swiss 
valleys,  especially  in  the  cantons  of  Lucerne 
and  Yalais  and  the  Engadine. 

Another  very  remarkable  case  which  has 
recently  been  observed  is  the  relation  existing 
between  some  of  our  forest  trees  and  certain 
Fungi,  the  species  of  which  have  not  yet 
been  clearly  ascertained.  The  root  tips  of  the 
trees  are  as  it  were  enclosed  in  a  thin  sheet 
of  closely  woven  mycelium.  It  was  at  first 
supposed  that  the  fungus  was  attacking  the 
roots  of  the  tree,  but  it  is  now  considered 
that  the  tree  and  the  fungus  mutually  benefit 
one  another.  The  fungus  collects  nutriment 
from  the  soil,  which  passes  into  the  tree  and 
up  to  the  leaves,  where  it  is  elaborated  into 
sap,  the  greater  part  being  utilized  by  the 
tree,  but  a  portion  reabsorbed  by  the  fungus. 
There  is  reason  to  think  that,  in  some  cases 
at  any  rate,  the  mycelium  is  that  of  the 
Truffle. 


v  WOODS   AND   FIELDS  179 

The  great  tropical  forests  have  a  totally 
different  character  from  ours.  I  reproduce 
here  the  plate  from  Kingsley's  At  Last.  The 
trees  strike  all  travellers  by  their  magnificence, 
the  luxuriance  of  their  vegetation,  and  their 
great  variety.  Our  forests  contain  compara- 
tively few  species,  whereas  in  the  tropics  we 
are  assured  that  it  is  far  from  common  to  see 
two  of  the  same  species  near  one  another. 
But  while  in  our  forests  the  species  are  few, 
each  tree  has  an  independence  and  individu- 
ality of  its  own.  In  the  tropics,  on  the  con- 
trary, they  are  interlaced  and  interwoven,  so 
as  to  form  one  mass  of  vegetation ;  many  of 
the  trunks  are  almost  concealed  by  an  under- 
growth of  verdure,  and  intertwined  by  spiral 
stems  of  parasitic  plants ;  from  tree  to  tree 
hang  an  inextricable  network  of  lianas,  and  it 
is  often  difficult  to  tell  to  which  tree  the 
fruits,  flowers,  and  leaves  really  belong.  The 
trunks  run  straight  up  to  a  great  height  with- 
out a  branch,  and  then  form  a  thick  leafy 
canopy  far  overhead ;  a  canopy  so  dense  that 
even  the  blaze  of  the  cloudless  blue  sky  is 
subdued,  one  might  almost  say  into  a  weird 


180  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

gloom,  the  effect  of  which  is  enhanced  by  the 
solemn  silence.  At  first  such  a  forest  gives 
the  impression  of  being  more  open  than  an 
English  wood,  but  a  few  steps  are  sufficient 
to  correct  this  error.  There  is  a  thick  under- 
growth matted  together  by  wiry  creepers,  and 
the  intermediate  space  is  traversed  in  all 
directions  by  lines  and  cords. 

The  English  traveller  misses  sadly  the 
sweet  songs  of  our  birds,  which  are  replaced 
by  the  hoarse  chatter  of  parrots.  Now  and 
then  a  succession  of  cries  even  harsher  and 
more  discordant  tell  of  a  troop  of  monkeys 
passing  across  from  tree  to  tree  among  the 
higher  branches,  or  lower  sounds  indicate  to 
a  practised  ear  the  neighbourhood  of  an  ape, 
a  sloth,  or  some  other  of  the  few  mammals 
which  inhabit  the  great  forests.  Occasionally 
a  large  blue  bee  hums  past,  a  brilliant  butter- 
fly flashes  across  the  path,  or  a  humming-bird 
hangs  in  the  air  over  a  flower  like,  as  St. 
Pierre  says,  an  emerald  set  in  coral,  but 
"how  weak  it  is  to  say  that  that  exquisite 
little  being,  whirring  and  fluttering  in  the  air, 
has  a  head  of  ruby,  a  throat  of  emerald,  and 


v  WOODS  AND  FIELDS  181 

wings  of  sapphire,  as  if  any  triumph  of  the 
jeweller's  art  could  ever  vie  with  that  spark- 
ling epitome  of  life  and  light."  l 

Sir  Wyville  Thomson  graphically  describes 
a  morning  in  a  Brazilian  forest :  — 

"  The  night  was  almost  absolutely  silent, 
only  now  and  then  a  peculiarly  shrill  cry  of 
some  night  bird  reached  us  from  the  woods. 
As  we  got  into  the  skirt  of  the  forest  the 
morning  broke,  but  the  reveil  in  a  Brazilian 
forest  is  wonderfully  different  from  the  slow 
creeping  on  of  the  dawn  of  a  summer  morning 
at  home,  to  the  music  of  the  thrushes  answer- 
ing one  another's  full  rich  notes  from  neigh- 
bouring thorn-trees.  Suddenly  a  yellow  light 
spreads  upwards  in  the  east,  the  stars  quickly 
fade,  and  the  dark  fringes  of  the  forest  and 
the  tall  palms  show  out  black  against  the 
yellow  sky,  and  almost  before  one  has  time  to 
observe  the  change  the  sun  has  risen  straight 
and  fierce,  and  the  whole  landscape  is  bathed 
in  the  full  light  of  day.  But  the  morning  is 
yet  for  another  hour  cool  and  fresh,  and  the 
scene  is  indescribably  beautiful.  The  woods, 

1  Thomson,  Voyage  of  the  Challenger. 


182  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

so  absolutely  silent  and  still  before.,  break  at 
once  into  noise  and  movement.  Flocks  of 
toucans  flutter  and  scream  on  the  tops  of  the 
highest  forest  trees  hopelessly  out  of  shot,  the 
ear  is  pierced  by  the  strange  wild  screeches  of 
a  little  band  of  macaws  which  fly  past  you 
like  the  wrapped-up  ghosts  of  the  birds  on 
some  gaudy  old  brocade."  l 

Mr.  Darwin  tells  us  that  nothing  can  be 
better  than  the  description  of  tropical  forests 
given  by  Bates. 

"  The  leafy  crowns  of  the  trees,  scarcely 
two  of  which  could  be  seen  together  of  the 
same  kind,  were  now  far  away  above  us,  in 
another  world  as  it  were.  We  could  only  see 
at  times,  where  there  was  a  break  above,  the 
tracery  of  the  foliage  against  the  clear  blue 
sky.  Sometimes  the  leaves  were  palmate,  or 
of  the  shape  of  large  outstretched  hands ;  at 
others  finely  cut  or  feathery  like  the  leaves  of 
Mimosse.  Below,  the  tree  trunks  were  every- 
where linked  together  by  sipos ;  the  woody 
flexible  stems  of  climbing  and  creeping  trees, 
whose  foliage  is  far  away  above,  mingled  with 

1  Thomson,  Voyage  of  the  Challenger. 


V  WOODS   AND   FIELDS  183 

that  of  the  taller  independent  trees.  Some 
were  twisted  in  strands  like  cables,  others  had 
thick  steins  contorted  in  every  variety  of  shape, 
entwining  snake-like  round  the  tree  trunks  or 
forming  gigantic  loops  and  coils  among  the 
larger  branches ;  others,  again,  were  of  zigzag 
shape,  or  indented  like  the  steps  of  a  staircase, 
sweeping  from  the  ground  to  a  giddy  height." 
The  reckless  and  wanton  destruction  of 
forests  has  ruined  some  of  the  richest  countries 
on  earth.  Syria  and  Asia  Minor,  Palestine 
and  the  north  of  Africa  were  once  far  more 
populous  than  they  are  at  present.  They  were* 
once  lands  "flowing  with  milk  and  honey," 
according  to  the  picturesque  language  of  the 
Bible,  but  are  now  in  many  places  reduced  to 
dust  and  ashes.  Why  is  there  this  melancholy 
change  ?  Why  have  deserts  replaced  cities  ? 
It  is  mainly  owing  to  the  ruthless  destruction 
of  the  trees,  which  has  involved  that  of 
nations.  Even  nearer  home  a  similar  process 
may  be  witnessed.  Two  French  departments 
—  the  Haute  s- and  Basses- Alpes  —  are  being 
gradually  reduced  to  ruin  by  the  destruction 
of  the  forests.  Cultivation  is  diminishing, 


184  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

vineyards  are  being  washed  away,  the  towns 
are  threatened,  the  population  is  dwindling, 
and  unless  something  is  done  the  country  will 
be  reduced  to  a  desert ;  until,  when  it  has 
been  released  from  the  destructive  presence  of 
man,  Nature  reproduces  a  covering  of  vege- 
table soil,  restores  the  vegetation,  creates  the 
forests  anew,  and  once  again  fits  these  regions 
for  the  habitation  of  man. 

In  another  part  of  France  we  have  an  illus- 
tration of  the  opposite  process. 

The  region  of  the  Landes,  which  fifty  years 
ago  was  one  of  the  poorest  and  most  miserable 
in  France,  has  now  been  made  one  of  the  most 
prosperous  owing  to  the  planting  of  Pines. 
The  increased  value  is  estimated  at  no  less 
than  1,000,000,000  francs.  Where  there  were 
fifty  years  ago  only  a  few  thousand  poor  and 
unhealthy  shepherds  whose  flocks  pastured  on 
the  scanty  herbage,  there  are  now  sawmills, 
charcoal  kilns,  and  turpentine  works,  inter- 
spersed with  thriving  villages  and  fertile  agri- 
cultural lands. 

In  our  own  country,  though  woodlands  are 
perhaps  on  the  increase,  true  forest  scenery  is 


v  WOODS   AND   FIELDS  185 

gradually  disappearing.  This  is,  I  suppose,  un- 
avoidable, but  it  is  a  matter  of  regret.  Forests 
have  so  many  charms  of  their  own.  They  give 
a  delightful  impression  of  space  and  of  abun- 
dance. 

The  extravagance  is  sublime.  Trees,  as 
Jefferies  says,  "  throw  away  handfuls  of  flower ; 
and  in  the  meadows  the  careless,  spendthrift 
ways  of  grass  and  flower  and  all  things  are  not 
to  be  expressed.  Seeds  by  the  hundred  million 
float  with  absolute  indifference  on  the  air. 
The  oak  has  a  hundred  thousand  more  leaves 
than  necessary,  and  never  hides  a  single  acorn. 
Nothing  utilitarian  —  everything  on  a  scale  oi 
splendid  waste.  Such  noble,  broadcast,  open- 
armed  waste  is  delicious  to  behold.  Never 
was  there  such  a  lying  proverb  as  '  Enough  is 
as  good  as  a  feast.'  Give  me  the  feast ;  give 
me  squandered  millions  of  seeds,  luxurious 
carpets  of  petals,  green  mountains  of  oak- 
leaves.  The  greater  the  waste  the  greater 
the  enjoyment  —  the  nearer  the  approach  to 
real  life." 

It  is  of  course  impossible  here  to  give  any 
idea  of  the  complexity  of  structure  of  our 


186  THE  BEAUTIES  OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

forest  trees.  A  slice  across  the  stem  of  a 
tree  shows  many  different  tissues  with  more  or 
less  technical  names,  bark  and  cambium,  med- 
ullary rays,  pith,  and  more  or  less  specialised 
tissue ;  air-vessels,  punctate  vessels,  woody 
fibres,  liber  fibres,  scalar  if  or  m  vessels,  and 
other  more  or  less  specialised  tissues. 

Let  us  take  a  single  leaf.  The  name  is 
synonymous  with  anything  very  thin,  so  that 
we  might  well  fancy  that  a  leaf  would  consist 
of  only  one  or  two  layers  of  cells.  Far  from 
it,  the  leaf  is  a  highly  complex  structure.  On 
the  upper  surface  are  a  certain  number  of 
scattered  hairs,  while  in  the  bud  these  are 
often  numerous,  long,  silky,  and  serve  to 
protect  the  young  leaf,  but  the  greater  number 
fall  off  soon  after  the  leaf  expands.  The  hairs 
are  seated  on  a  layer  of  flattened  cells  —  the 
skin  or  epidermis.  Below  this  are  one  or 
more  layers  of  "  palisade  cells,"  the  function 
of  which  seems  to  be  to  regulate  the  quantity 
of  light  entering  the  leaf.  Under  these  again 
is  the  "  parenchyme,"  several  layers  of  more  or 
less  rounded  cells,  leaving  air  spaces  and  pas- 
sages between  them.  From  place  to  place  in 


v  WOODS  AND  FIELDS  187 

the  parenchyme  run  "fibre-vascular  bundles," 
forming  a  sort  of  skeleton  to  the  leaf,  and 
comprising  air-vessels  on  the  upper  side,  rayed 
or  dotted  vessels  with  woody  fibre  below,  and 
vessels  of  various  kinds.  The  under  surface 
of  the  leaf  is  formed  by  another  layer  of 
flattened  cells,  supporting  generally  more  or 
less  hairs,  and  some  of  them  specially  modi- 
fied so  as  to  leave  minute  openings  or 
"  stomata "  leading  into  the  air  passages. 
These  stomata  are  so  small  that  there  are 
millions  on  a  single  leaf,  and  on  plants  growing 
in  dry  countries,  such  as  the  Evergreen  Oak, 
Oleander,  etc.,  they  are  sunk  in  pits,  and  fur- 
ther protected  by  tufts  of  hair. 

The  cells  of  the  leaf  again  are  themselves 
complex.  They  consist  of  a  cell  wall  per- 
forated by  extremely  minute  orifices,  of  pro- 
toplasm, cell  fluid,  and  numerous  granules 
of  "  Chlorophyll,"  which  give  the  leaf  its 
green  colour. 

While  these  are,  stated  very  briefly,  the 
essential  parts  of  a  leaf,  the  details  differ  in 
every  species,  while  in  the  same  species  and 
even  in  the  same  plant,  the  leaves,  present 


188  THE    BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

minor  differences  according  to  the  situation 
in  which  they  grow. 

Since,  then,  there  is  so  much  complex 
structure  in  a  single  leaf,  what  must  it  be  in  a 
whole  plant  ?  There  is  a  giant  seaweed  (Mac- 
rocystis),  which  has  been  known  to  reach  a 
length  of  1000  feet,  as  also  do  some  of  the 
lianas  of  tropical  forests.  These,  however, 
attain  no  great  bulk,  and  the  most  gigantic 
specimens  of  the  vegetable  kingdom  yet 
known  are  the  Wellingtonia  (Sequoia)  gigan- 
tea,  which  grows  to  a  height  of  450  feet,  and 
the  Blue  Gum  (Eucalyptus)  even  to  480. 

One  is  apt  to  look  on  animal  structure  as 
more  delicate,  and  of  a  higher  order,  than 
that  of  plants.  And  so  no  doubt  it  is.  Yet 
an  animal,  even  man  himself,  will  recover 
from  a  wound  or  an  operation  more  rapidly 
and  more  perfectly  than  a  tree.1 

Trees  again  derive  a  special  interest  from 
the  venerable  age  they  attain.  In  some  cases, 
no  doubt,  the  age  is  more  or  less  mythical,  as, 
for  instance,  the  Olive  of  Minerva  at  Athens, 
the  Oaks  mentioned  by  Pliny,  "which  were 

1  Sir  J.  Paget,  On  the  Pathology  of  Plants. 


v  WOODS   AND   FIELDS  189 

thought  coeval  with  the  world  itself,"  the 
Fig  tree,  "  under  which  the  wolf  suckled  the 
founder  of  Rome  and  his  brother,  lasting  (as 
Tacitus  calculated)  840  years,  putting  out 
new  shoots,  and  presaging  the  translation  of 
that  empire  from  the  Caesarian  line,  happen- 
ing in  Nero's  reign."  1  But  in  other  cases  the 
estimates  rest  on  a  surer  foundation,  and  it 
cannot  be  doubted  that  there  are  trees  still 
living  which  were  already  of  considerable  size 
at  the  time  of  the  Conquest.  The  Soma 
Cypress  of  Lombardy,  which  is  120  feet  high 
and  23  in  circumference,  is  calculated  to  go 
back  to  forty  years  before  the  birth  of  Christ. 
Francis  the  First  is  said  to  have  driven  his 
sword  into  it  in  despair  after  the  battle  of 
Padua,  and  Napoleon  altered  his  road  over  the 
Simplon  so  as  to  spare  it. 

Ferdinand  and  Isabella  in  1476  swore 
to  maintain  the  privileges  of  the  Biscayans 
under  the  old  Oak  of  Guernica.  In  the 
Ardennes  an  Oak  cut  down  in  1824  con- 
tained a  funeral  urn  and  some  Samnite 
coins.  A  writer  at  the  time  drew  the  conclu- 

1  Evelyn's  Sylva. 


190         ,         THE  BEAUTIES  OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

sion  that  it  must  have  been  already  a  large 
tree  when  Rome  was  founded,  and  though  the 
facts  do  not  warrant  this  conclusion,  the  tree 
did,  no  doubt,  go  back  to  Pagan  times.  The 
great  Yew  of  Fountains  Abbey  is  said  to  have 
sheltered  the  monks  when  the  abbey  was  re- 
built in  1133,  and  is  estimated  at  an  age  of 
1300  years:  that  at  Brabourne  in  Kent  at 
3000.  De  Candolle  gives  the  following  as  the 
ages  attainable :  — 

The  Ivy 450  years 

Larch  .....  570     " 

Plane  750     « 

Cedar  of  Lebanon          ...  800     « 

Lime  1100     « 

Oak 1500     « 

Taxodium  distichum     .         .         .  4000  to  6000 

Baobab 6000  years 

Nowhere  is  woodland  scenery  more  beau- 
tiful than  where  it  passes  gradually  into  the 
open  country.  The  separate  trees,  having 
more  room  both  for  their  roots  and  branches, 
are  finer,  and  can  be  better  seen,  while,  when 
they  are  close  together,  "  one  cannot  see  the 
wood  for  the  trees."  The  vistas  which  open 
out  are  full  of  mystery  and  of  promise, 


v  WOODS   AND   FIELDS  191 

and  tempt  us  gradually  out  into  the  green 
fields. 

What  pleasant  memories  these  very  words 
recall,  games  in  the  hay  as  children,  and  sunny 
summer  days  throughout  life. 

"  Consider,"  says  Ruskin,1  "  what  we  owe 
to  the  meadow  grass,  to  the  covering  of  the 
dark  ground  by  that  glorious  enamel,  by 
the  companies  of  those  soft  countless  and 
peaceful  spears.  The  fields !  Follow  but 
forth  for  a  little  time  the  thought  of  all  that 
we  ought  to  recognise  in  those  words.  All 
spring  and  summer  is  in  them  —  the  walks 
by  silent  scented  paths,  the  rests  in  noonday 
heat,  the  joy  of  herds  and  flocks,  the  power 
of  all  shepherd  life  and  meditation,  the  life  of 
sunlight  upon  the  world,  falling  in  emerald 
streaks,  and  soft  blue  shadows,  where  else  it 
would  have  struck  on  the  dark  mould  or 
scorching  dust,  pastures  beside  the  pacing 
brooks,  soft  banks  and  knolls  of  lowly  hills, 
thymy  slopes  of  down  overlooked  by  the  blue 
line  of  lifted  sea,  crisp  lawns  all  dim  with 
early  dew,  or  smooth  in  evening  warmth  of 

1  Modern  Painters. 


192  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

barred  sunshine,  dinted  by  happy  feet,  and 
softening  in  their  fall  the  sound  of  loving 
voices. 

"  Go  out,  in  the  spring  time,  among  the 
meadows  that  slope  from  the  shores  of  the 
Swiss  lakes  to  the  roots  of  their  lower  moun- 
tains. There,  mingled  with  the  taller  gentians 
and  the  white  narcissus,  the  grass  grows  deep 
and  free,  and  as  you  follow  the  winding 
mountain  paths,  beneath  arching  boughs  all 
veiled  and  dim  with  blossom,  —  paths,  that  for 
ever  droop  and  rise  over  the  green  banks  and 
mounds  sweeping  down  in  scented  undulation, 
steep  to  the  blue  water,  studded  here  and 
there  with  new  mown  heaps,  filling  all  the 
air  with  fainter  sweetness,  —  look  up  towards 
the  higher  hills,  where  the  waves  of  everlast- 
ing green  roll  silently  into  their  long  inlets 
among  the  shadowrs  of  the  pines  ;  and  we  may, 
perhaps,  at  last  know  the  meaning  of  those 
quiet  words  of  the  147th  Psalm,  '  He  maketh 
the  grass  to  grow  upon  the  mountains.' ' 

"On  fine  days,"  he  tells  us  again  in  his 
Autobiography,  "  when  the  grass  was  dry,  I 


v  WOODS   AND    FIELDS  193 

used  to  lie  down  on  it,  and  draw  the  blades 
as  they  grew,  with  the  ground  herbage  of 
buttercup  or  hawkweed  mixed  among  them, 
until  every  square  foot  of  meadow,  or  mossy 
bank,  became  an  infinite  picture  and  posses- 
sion to  me,  and  the  grace  and  adjustment  to 
each  other  of  growing  leaves,  a  subject  of 
more  curious  interest  to  me  than  the  com- 
position of  any  painter's  masterpieces." 

In  the  passage  above  quoted,  Ruskin  alludes 
especially  to  Swiss  meadows.  They  are  espe- 
cially remarkable  in  the  beauty  and  variety  of 
flowers.  In  our  fields  the  herbage  is  mainly 
grass,  and  if  it  often  happens  that  they  glow 
with  Buttercups  or  are  white  with  Ox-eye- 
daisies,  these  are  but  unwelcome  intruders 
and  add  nothing  to  the  value  of  the  hay. 
Swiss  meadows,  on  the  contrary,  are  sweet 
and  lovely  with  wild  Geraniums,  Harebells, 
Bluebells,  Pink  Restharrow,  Yellow  Lady's 
Bedstraw,  Chervil,  Eyebright,  Red  and  White 
Silenes,  Geraniums,  Gentians,  and  many  other 
flowers  which  have  no  familiar  English  names  ; 
all  adding  not  only  to  the  beauty  and  sweetness 
of  the  meadows,  but  forming  a  valuable  part 


194  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

of  the  crop  itself.1  On  the  other  hand  "  turf  " 
is  peculiarly  English,  and  no  turf  is  more  de- 
lightful than  that  of  our  Downs  —  delightful 
to  ride  on,  to  sit  on,  or  to  walk  on.  The  turf 
indeed  feels  so  springy  under  our  feet  that 
walking  on  it  seems  scarcely  an  exertion  :  one 
could  almost  fancy  that  the  Downs  themselves 
were  still  rising,  even  higher,  into  the  air. 

The  herbage  of  the  Downs  is  close  rather 
than  short,  hillocks  of  sweet  thyme,  tufts  of 
golden  Potentilla,  of  Milkwort  —  blue,  pink, 
and  white  —  of  sweet  grass  and  Harebells  : 
here  and  there  pink  with  Heather,  or  golden 
with  Furze  or  Broom,  while  over  all  are  the 
fresh  air  and  sunshine,  sweet  scents,  and  the 
hum  of  bees.  And  if  the  Downs  seem  full  of 
life  and  sunshine,  their  broad  shoulders  are 
types  of  kindly  strength,  they  give  also  an 
impression  of  power  arid  antiquity,  while  every 
now  and  then  we  come  across  a  tumulus,  or  a 
group  of  great  grey  stones,  the  burial  place  of 
some  ancient  hero,  or  a  sacred  temple  of  our 
pagan  forefathers. 

1  M.  Correvon  informs  me  that  the  Gruyere  cheese  is  supposed 
to  owe  its  peculiar  flavour  to  the  alpine  Alchemilla,  which  is  now 
on  that  account  often  purposely  sown  elsewhere. 


v  WOODS   AND   FIELDS  195 

On  the  Downs  indeed  things  change  slowly, 
and  in  parts  of  Sussex  the  strong  slow  oxen 
still  draw  the  waggons  laden  with  warm  hay 
or  golden  wheat  sheaves,  or  drag  the  wooden 
plough  along  the  slopes  of  the  Downs,  just  as 
they  did  a  thousand  years  ago. 

I  love  the  open  Down  most,  but  without 
hedges  England  would  not  be  England. 
Hedges  are  everywhere  full  of  beauty  and 
interest,  and  nowhere  more  so  than  at  the 
foot  of  the  Downs,  when  they  are  in  great 
part  composed  of  wild  Guelder  Roses  and  rich 
dark  Yews,  decked  with  festoons  of  Travel- 
ler's Joy,  the  wild  Bryonies,  and  garlands  of 
Wild  Roses  covered  with  thousands  of  white 
or  delicate  pink  flowers,  each  with  a  centre  of 
gold. 

At  the  foot  of  the  Downs  spring  clear  spark- 
ling streams ;  rain  from  heaven  purified  still 
further  by  being  filtered  through  a  thousand 
feet  of  chalk ;  fringed  with  purple  Loosestrife 
and  Willowherb,  starred  with  white  Water 
Ranunculuses,  or  rich  Watercress,  while  every 
now  and  then  a  brown  water  rat  rustles  in 
the  grasses  at  the  edge,  and  splashes  into 


196  THE    BEAUTIES   OF   NATUKE  CHAP. 

the  water,  or  a  pink  speckled  trout  glides 
out  of  sight. 

In  many  of  our  midland  and  northern 
counties  most  of  the  meadows  lie  in  parallel 
undulations  or  "rigs."  These  are  generally 
about  a  furlong  (220  yards)  in  length,  and 
either  one  or  two  poles  (51  or  11  yards)  in 
breadth.  They  seldom  run  straight,  but  tend 
to  curve  towards  the  left.  At  each  end  of 
the  field  a  high  bank,  locally  called  a  balk, 
often  3  or  4  feet  high,  runs  at  right  angles  to 
the  rigs.  In  small  fields  there  are  generally 
eight,  but  sometimes  ten,  of  these  rigs,  which 
make  in  the  one  case  4,  in  the  other  5  acres. 
These  curious  characters  carry  us  back  to  the 
old  tenures,  and  archaic  cultivation  of  land, 
and  to  a  period  when  the  fields  were  not  in 
pasture,  but  were  arable. 

They  also  explain  our  curious  system  of 
land  measurement.  The  "  acre  "  is  the  amount 
which  a  team  of  oxen  were  supposed  to  plough 
in  a  day.  It  corresponds  to  the  German 
"  morgen  "  and  the  French  "  journee."  The 
furlong  or  long  "furrow"  is  the  distance 
which  a  team  of  oxen  can  plough  conven- 


v  WOODS  AND   FIELDS  197 

iently  without  stopping  to  rest.  Oxen,  as  we 
know,  were  driven  not  with  a  whip,  but  with 
a  goad  or  pole,  the  most  convenient  length  for 
which  was  16i  feet,  and  the  ancient  plough- 
man used  his  "pole"  or  "perch"  by  placing 
it  at  right  angles  to  his  first  furrow,  thus 
measuring  the  amount  he  had  to  plough. 
Hence  our  "pole"  or  "perch"  of  161  feet, 
which  at  first  sight  seems  a  very  singular 
unit  to  have  selected.  This  width  is  also  con- 
venient both  for  turning  the  plough,  and  also 
for  sowing.  Hence  the  most  convenient  unit 
of  land  for  arable  purposes  was  a  furlong  in 
length  and  a  perch  or  pole  in  width. 

The  team  generally  consisted  of  eight  oxen. 
Few  peasants,  however,  possessed  a  whole 
team,  several  generally  joining  together,  and 
dividing  the  produce.  Hence  the  number  of 
"  rigs,"  one  for  each  ox.  We  often,  however, 
find  ten  instead  of  eight ;  one  being  for  the 
parson's  tithe,  the  other  tenth  going  to  the 
ploughman. 

When  eight  oxen  were  employed  the  goad 
would  not  of  course  reach  the  leaders,  which 
were  guided  by  a  man  who  walked  on  the 


198  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

near  side.  On  arriving  at  the  end  of  each 
furrow  he  turned  them  round,  and  as  it  was 
easier  to  pull  than  to  push  them,  this  gradu- 
ally gave  the  furrow  a  turn  towards  the  left, 
thus  accounting  for  the  slight  curvature. 
Lastly,  while  the  oxen  rested  on  arriving  at 
the  end  of  the  furrow,  the  ploughmen  scraped 
off  the  earth  which  had  accumulated  on  the 
coulter  and  ploughshare,  and  the  accumulation 
of  these  scrapings  gradually  formed  the  balk. 

It  is  fascinating  thus  to  trace  indications 
of  old  customs  and  modes  of  life,  but  it  would 
carry  us  away  from  the  present  subject. 

Even  though  the  Swiss  meadows  may  offer 
a  greater  variety,  our  English  fields  are  yet 
rich  in  flowers :  yellow  with  Cowslips  and 
Primroses,  pink  with  Cuckoo  flowers  and 
purple  with  Orchis,  while,  however,  unwel- 
come to  the  eye  of  the  farmer, 

the  rich  Buttercup 
Its  tiny  polished  urn  holds  up, 
Filled  with  ripe  summer  to  the  edge,1 

turning  many  a  meadow  into  a  veritable  field 
of  the  cloth  of  gold,  and  there  are  few  prettier 

ij.  R.  Lowell. 


v  WOODS  AND   FIELDS  199 

sights  in  nature  than  an  English  hay  field  on 
a  summer  evening,  with  a  copse  perhaps  at 
one  side  and  a  brook  on  the  other ;  men  with 
forks  tossing  the  hay  in  the  air  to  dry; 
women  with  wooden  rakes  arranging  it  in 
swathes  ready  for  the  great  four-horse  wag- 
gon, or  collecting  it  in  cocks  for  the  night ; 
while  some  way  off  the  mowers  are  still  at 
work,  and  we  hear  from  time  to  time  the 
pleasant  sound  of  the  whetting  of  the  scythe. 
All  are  working  with  a  will  lest  rain  should 
come  and  their  labour  be  thrown  away.  This 
too  often  happens.  But  though  we  often  com- 
plain of  our  English  climate,  it  is  yet,  take 
it  all  in  all,  one  of  the  best  in  the  world, 
being  comparatively  free  from  extremes  either 
of  heat  or  cold,  drought  or  deluge.  To  the 
happy  mixture  of  sunshine  and  of  rain  we 
owe  the  greenness  of  our  fields, 

sparkling  with  dewdrops 
Indwelt  with  little  angels  of  the  Sun, l 

lit  and 

warmed  by  golden  sunshine 
And  fed  by  silver  rain, 

which  now  and  again  sprinkles  the  whole  earth 
with  diamonds. 

1  Hamerton. 


CHAPTER  VI 

MOUNTAINS 


Mountains  "  seem  to  have  been  built  for  the  human  race, 
as  at  once  their  schools  and  cathedrals ;  full  of  treasures  of 
illuminated  manuscript  for  the  scholar.  t  kindly  in  simple 
lessons  for  the  worker,  quiet  in  pale  cloisters  for  the  thinker, 
glorious  in  holiness  for  the  worshipper.  They  are  great 
cathedrals  of  the  earth,  with  their  gates  of  rock,  pavements  of 
cloud,  choirs  of  stream  and  stone,  altars  of  snow,  and  vaults 
of  purple  traversed  by  the  continual  stars." —  RUSKIN. 


UNIVERSITY 


CHAPTER  VI 

MOUNTAINS 

THE  Alps  are  to  many  of  us  an  inexhaustible 
source  of  joy  and  peace,  of  health,  and  even  of 
life.  We  have  gone  to  them  jaded  and  worn, 
feeling,  perhaps  without  any  external  cause, 
anxious  and  out  of  spirits,  and  have  returned 
full  of  health,  strength,  and  energy.  Among 
the  mountains  Nature  herself  seems  freer  and 
happier,  brighter  and  purer,  than  elsewhere. 
The  rush  of  the  rivers,  and  the  repose  of  the 
lakes,  the  pure  snowfields  and  majestic  glaciers, 
the  fresh  air,  the  mysterious  summits  of  the 
mountains,  the  blue  haze  of  the  distance,  the 
morning  tints  and  the  evening  glow,  the  beauty 
of  the  sky  and  the  grandeur  of  the  storm,  have 
all  refreshed  and  delighted  us  time  after  time, 
and  their  memories  can  never  fade  away. 

203 


204  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

Even  now  as  I  write  comes  back  to  me  the 
bright  vision  of  an  Alpine  valley  —  blue  sky 
above,  glittering  snow,  bare  grey  or  rich  red 
rock,  dark  pines  here  and  there,  mixed  with 
bright  green  larches,  then  patches  of  smooth 
alp,  with  clumps  of  birch  and  beech,  and  dotted 
with  brown  chalets ;  then  below  them  rock  again, 
and 'wood,  but  this  time  with  more  deciduous 
trees ;  and  then  the  valley  itself,  with  emer- 
ald meadows,  interspersed  with  alder  copses, 
threaded  together  by  a  silver  stream ;  and  I 
almost  fancy  I  can  hear  the  tinkling  of  distant 
cowbells  coming  down  from  the  alp,  and  the 
delicious  murmur  of  the  rushing  water.  The 
endless  variety,  the  sense  of  repose  and  yet  of 
power,  the  dignity  of  age,  the  energy  of  youth, 
the  play  of  colour,  the  beauty  of  form,  the 
mystery  of  their  origin,  all  combine  to  invest 
mountains  with  a  solemn  beauty. 

I  feel  with  Ruskin  that  "  mountains  are  the 
beginning  and  the  end  of  all  natural  scenery ; 
in  them,  and  in  the  forms  of  inferior  landscape 
that  lead  to  them,  my  affections  are  wholly 
bound  up  ;  and  though  I  can  look  with  happy 
admiration  at  the  lowland  flowers,  and  woods, 


vi  MOUNTAINS  205 

and  open  skies,  the  happiness  is  tranquil  and 
cold,  like  that  of  examining  detached  flowers 
in  a  conservatory,  or  reading  a  pleasant  book." 
And  of  all  mountain  views  which  he  has  seen, 
the  finest  he  considers  is  that  from  the  Mont- 
anvert :  "  I  have  climbed  much  and  wandered 
much  in  the  heart  of  the  high  Alps,  but  I  have 
never  yet  seen  anything  which  equalled  the 
view  from  the  cabin  of  the  Montanvert." 

It  is  no  mere  fancy  that  among  mountains 
the  flowers  are  peculiarly  large  and  brilliant 
in  colour.  Not  only  are  there  many  beautiful 
species  which  are  peculiar  to  mountains, — 
alpine  Gentians,  yellow,  blue,  and  purple ; 
alpine  Rhododendrons,  alpine  Primroses  and 
Cowslips,  alpine  Lychnis,  Columbine,  Monks- 
hood,  Anemones,  Narcissus,  Campanulas,  Sol- 
danellas,  and  a  thousand  others  less  familiar 
to  us,  —  but  it  is  well  established  that  even 
within  the  limits  of  the  same  species  -those 
living  up  in  the  mountains  have  larger  and 
brighter  flowers  than  their  sisters  elsewhere. 

Various  alpine  species  belonging  to  quite 
distinct  families  form  close  moss-like  cushions, 
gemmed  with  star-like  flowers,  or  covered 


206  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

completely  with  a  carpet  of  blossom.  On  the 
lower  mountain  slopes  and  in  alpine  valleys 
trees  seem  to  flourish  with  peculiar  luxuriance. 
Pines  and  Firs  and  Larches  above  ;  then,  as  we 
descend,  Beeches  and  magnificent  Chestnuts, 
which  seem  to  rejoice  in  the  sweet,  fresh  air 
and  the  pure  mountain  streams. 

To  any  one  accustomed  to  the  rich  bird  life 
of  English  woods  and  hedgerows,  it  must  be 
admitted  that  Swiss  woods  and  Alps  seem 
rather  lonely  and  deserted.  Still  the  Hawk, 
or  even  Eagle,  soaring  high  up  in  the  air,  the 
weird  cry  of  the  Marmot,  and  the  knowledge 
that,  even  if  one  cannot  see  Chamois,  they 
may  all  the  time  be  looking  down  on  us,  give 
the  Alps,  from  this  point  of  view  also,  a 
special  interest  of  their  own. 

Another  great  charm  of  mountain  districts 
is  the  richness  of  colour.  "  Consider,1  first, 
the  difference  produced  in  the  whole  tone  of 
landscape  colour  by  the  introductions  of  purple, 
violet,  and  deep  ultra-marine  blue  which  we 
owe  to  mountains.  In  an  ordinary  lowland 
landscape  we  have  the  blue  of  the  sky ;  the 

1  Ruskin. 


vi  MOUNTAINS  207 

green  of  the  grass,  which  I  will  suppose  (and 
this  is  an  unnecessary  concession  to  the  low- 
lands) entirely  fresh  and  bright ;  the  green  of 
trees ;  and  certain  elements  of  purple,  far 
more  rich  and  beautiful  than  we  generally 
should  think,  in  their  bark  and  shadows  (bare 
hedges  and  thickets,  or  tops  of  trees,  in  sub- 
dued afternoon  sunshine,  are  nearly  perfect 
purple  and  of  an  exquisite  tone),  as  well  as  in 
ploughed  fields,  and  dark  ground  in  general. 
But  among  mountains,  in  addition  to  all  this, 
large  unbroken  spaces  of  pure  violet  and 
purple  are  introduced  in  their  distances  ;  and 
even  near,  by  films  of  cloud  passing  over  the 
darkness  of  ravines  or  forests,  blues  are  pro- 
duced of  the  most  subtle  tenderness ;  these 
azures  and  purples  passing  into  rose  colour  of 
otherwise  wholly  unattainable  delicacy  among 
the  upper  summits,  the  blue  of  the  sky  being 
at  the  same  time  purer  and  deeper  than  in  the 
plains.  Nay,  in  some  sense,  a  person  who 
has  never  seen  the  rose  colour  of  the  rays  of 
dawn  crossing  a  blue  mountain  twelve  or 
fifteen  miles  away  can  hardly  be  said  to  know 
what  tenderness  in  colour  means  at  all ;  bright 


208  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

tenderness  he  may,  indeed,  see  in  the  sky  or 
in  a  flower,  but  this  grave  tenderness  of  the 
far-away  hill-purples  he  cannot  conceive." 

"  I  do  not  know,"  he  says  elsewhere,  "  any 
district  possessing  a  more  pure  or  uninter- 
rupted fulness  of  mountain  character  (and 
that  of  the  highest  order),  or  which  appears  to 
have  been  less  disturbed  by  foreign  agencies, 
than  that  which  borders  the  course  of  the 
Trient  between  Yalorsine  and  Martigny.  The 
paths  which  lead  to  it,  out  of  the  valley  of  the 
Rhone,  rising  at  first  in  steep  circles  among 
the  walnut  trees,  like  winding  stairs  among 
the  pillars  of  a  Gothic  tower,  retire  over  the 
shoulders  of  the  hills  into  a  valley  almost 
unknown,  but  thickly  inhabited  by  an  indus- 
trious and  patient  population.  Along  the 
ridges  of  the  rocks,  smoothed  by  old  glaciers, 
into  long,  dark,  billowy  swellings,  like  the 
backs  of  plunging  dolphins,  the  peasant 
watches  the  slow  colouring  of  the  tufts  of  moss 
and  roots  of  herb,  which,  little  by  little,  gather 
a  feeble  soil  over  the  iron  substance  ;  then, 
supporting  the  narrow  strip  of  clinging  ground 
with  a  few  stones,  he  subdues  it  to  the  spade, 


vi  MOUNTAINS  209 

and  in  a  year  or  two  a  little  crest  of  corn  is 
seen  waving  upon  the  rocky  casque." 

Tyndall,  speaking  of  the  scene  from  the 
summit  of  the  Little  Scheideck,1  says :  "  The 
upper  air  exhibited  a  commotion  which  we 
did  not  experience  ;  clouds  were  wildly  driven 
against  the  flanks  of  the  Eiger,  the  Jungfrau 
thundered  behind,  while  in-  front  of  us  a  mag- 
nificent rainbow,  fixing  one  of  its  arms  in  the 
valley  of  Grindelwald,  and,  throwing  the 
other  right  over  the  crown  of  the  Wetterhorn, 
clasped  the  mountain  in  its  embrace.  Through 
jagged  apertures  in  the  clouds  floods  of  golden 
light  were  poured  down  the  sides  of  the  moun- 
tain. On  the  slopes  were  innumerable  chalets, 
glistening  in  the  sunbeams,  herds  browsing 
peacefully  and  shaking  their  mellow  bells  ; 
while  the,  blackness  of  the  pine  trees,  crowded 
into  woods,  or  scattered  in  pleasant  clusters 
over  alp  and  valley,  contrasted  forcibly  with 
the  lively  green  of  the  fields." 

Few  men  had  more  experience  of  moun- 
tains than  Mr.  Whymper,  and  from  him, 
I  will  quote  one  remarkable  passage  de- 

1  The  Glaciers  of  the  Alps. 


210  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

scribing  the  view  from  the  summit  of  the 
Matterhorn  just  before  the  terrible  catastrophe 
which  overshadows  the  memory  of  his  first 
ascent. 

"  The  day  was  one  of  those  superlatively 
calm  and  clear  ones  which  usually  precede 
bad  weather.  The  atmosphere  was  perfectly 
still  and  free  from  all  clouds  or  vapours. 
Mountains  fifty,  nay,  a  hundred  miles  off 
looked  sharp  and  near.  All  their  details  — 
ridge  and  crag,  snow  and  glacier  —  stood  out 
with  faultless  definition.  Pleasant  thoughts 
of  happy  days  in  bygone  years  came  up 
unbidden  as  we  recognised  the  old  familiar 
forms.  All  were  revealed,  not  one  of  the 
principal  peaks  of  the  Alps  was  hidden.  I  see 
them  clearly  now,  the  great  inner  circle  of 
giants,  backed  by  the  ranges,  chains,  and 
massifs.  ...  Ten  thousand  feet  beneath  us 
were  the  green  fields  of  Zermatt,  dotted  with 
chalets,  from  which  blue  smoke  rose  lazily. 
Eight  thousand  feet  below,  on  the  other  side, 
were  the  pastures  of  Breuil.  There  were  black 
and  gloomy  forests ;  bright  and  cheerful 
meadows,  bounding  waterfalls  and  tranquil 


vi  MOUNTAINS  211 

lakes,  fertile  lands  and  savage  wastes,  sunny 
plains  and  frigid  plateaux.  There  were  the 
most  rugged  forms  and  the  most  graceful 
outlines,  bold  perpendicular  cliffs  and  gentle 
undulating  slopes ;  rocky  mountains  and 
snowy  mountains,  sombre  and  solemn,  or 
glittering  and  white,  with  walls,  turrets,  pin- 
nacles, pyramids,  domes,  cones,  and  spires ! 
There  was  every  combination  that  the  world 
can  give,  and  every  contrast  that  the  heart 
could  desire." 

These  were  summer  scenes,  but  the 
Autumn  and  Winter  again  have  a  grandeur 
and  beauty  of  their  own. 

"  Autumn  is  dark  on  the  mountains ;  grey 
mist  rests  on  the  hills.  The  whirlwind  is 
heard  on  the  heath.  Dark  rolls  the  river 
through  the  narrow  plain.  The  leaves  twirl 
round  with  the  wind,  and  strew  the  grave  of 
the  dead."  l 

Even  bad  weather  often  but  enhances  the 
beauty  and  grandeur  of  mountains.  When 
the  lower  parts  are  hidden,  and  the  peaks 
stand  out  above  the  clouds,  they  look  much 

1  Ossian. 


212  THE   BEAUTIES    OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

loftier  than  if  the  whole  mountain  side  is 
visible.  The  gloom  lends  a  weirdness  and 
mystery  to  the  scene,  while  the  flying  clouds 
give  it  additional  variety. 

Rain,  moreover,  adds  vividness  to  the 
colouring.  The  leaves  and  grass  become  a 
brighter  green,  "  every  sunburnt  rock  glows 
into  an  agate,"  and  when  fine  weather  returns 
the  new  snow  gives  intense  brilliance,  and 
invests  the  woods  especially  with  the  beauty 
of  Fairyland.  How  often  in  alpine  districts 
does  one  long  "for  the  wings  of  a  dove,"  more 
thoroughly  to  enjoy  and  more  completely  to 
explore,  the  mysteries  and  recesses  of  the 
mountains.  The  mind,  however,  can  go,  even 
if  the  body  must  remain  behind. 

Each  hour  of  the  day  has  a  beauty  of  its 
own.  The  mornings  and  evenings  again  glow 
with  different  and  even  richer  tints. 

In  mountain  districts  the  cloud  effects  are 
brighter  and  more  varied  than  in  flatter 
regions.  The  morning  and  evening  tints  are 
seen  to  the  greatest  advantage,  and  clouds 
floating  high  in  the  heavens  sometimes  glitter 
with  the  most  exquisite  iridescent  hues 


vi  MOUNTAINS  213 

that  blush  and  glow 
Like  angels'  wings.1 

On  low  ground  one  may  be  in  the  clouds, 
but  not  above  them.  But  as  we  look  down 
from  mountains  and  see  the  clouds  floating 
far  below  us,  we  almost  seem  as  if  we  were 
looking  down  on  earth  from  one  of  the  heav- 
enly bodies. 

Not  even  in  the  Alps  is  there  anything 
more  beautiful  than  the  "after  glow"  which 
lights  up  the  snow  and  ice  with  a  rosy  tint 
for  some  time  after  the  sun  has  set.  Long 
after  the  lower  slopes  are  already  in  the  shade, 
the  summit  of  Mont  Blanc  for  instance  is 
transfigured  by  the  light  of  the  setting  sun 
glowing  on  the  snow.  It  seems  almost  like 
a  light  from  another  world,  and  vanishes  as 
suddenly  and  mysteriously  as  it  came. 

As  we  look  up  from  the  valleys  the 
mountain  peaks  seem  Hke  separate  pinnacles 
projecting  far  above  the  general  level.  This, 
however,  is  a  very  erroneous  impression,  and 
when  we  examine  the  view  from  the  top  of 
any  of  the  higher  mountains,  or  even  from 

1  Bullar,  Azores. 


214  THE   BEAUTIES    OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

one  of  very  moderate  elevation,  if  well  placed, 
such  say  as  the  well-known  Piz  Languard,  we 
see  that  in  many  cases  they  must  have  once 
formed  a  dome,  or  even  a  table  land,  out  of 
which  the  valleys  have  been  carved.  Many 
mountain  chains  were  originally  at  least  twice 
as  high  as  they  are  now,  and  the  highest 
peaks  are  those  which  have  suffered  least 
from  the  wear  and  tear  of  time. 

We  used  to  speak  of  the  everlasting  hills, 
and  are  only  beginning  to  realise  the  vast 
and  many  changes  which  our  earth  has  un- 
dergone. 

There  rolls  the  deep  where  grew  the  tree. 

O  earth,  what  changes  hast  thou  seen ! 

There  where  the  long  street  roars,  hath  been 
The  stillness  of  the  central  sea. 

The  hills  are  shadows,  and  they  flow 

From  form  to  form,  and  nothing  stands; 
They  melt  like  mist,  the  solid  lands, 

Like  clouds  they  shape  themselves  and  go.1 

THE    ORIGIN    OF    MOUNTAINS 

Geography  moreover  acquires'  a  new  in- 
terest when  we  once  realise  that  mountains 

1  Tennyson. 


vi  MOUNTAINS  215 

are  no  mere  accidents,  but  that  for  every 
mountain  chain,  for  every  peak  and  valley, 
there  is  a  cause  and  an  explanation. 

The  origin  of  Mountains  is  a  question  of 
much  interest.  The  building  up  of  Volcanoes 
is  even  now  going  on  before  our  eyes.  Some 
others,  the  Dolomites  for  instance,  have  been 
regarded  by  Richthofen  and  other  geologists 
as  ancient  coral  islands.  The  long  lines  of 
escarpment  which  often  stretch  for  miles  across 
country,  are  now  ascertained,  mainly  through 
the  researches  of  Whitaker,  to  be  due  to  the 
differential  action  of  aerial  causes.  The  gen- 
eral origin  of  mountain  chains,  however,  was 
at  first  naturally  enough  attributed  to  direct 
upward  pressure  from  below.  To  attribute 
them  in  any  way  to  subsidence  seems  almost 
a  paradox,  and  yet  it  appears  to  be  now  well 
established  that  the  general  cause  is  lateral 
compression,  due  to  contraction  of  the  under- 
lying mass.  The  earth,  we  know,  has  been 
gradually  cooling,  and  as  it  contracted  in  doing 
so,  the  strata  of  the  crust  would  necessarily  be 
thrown  into  folds.  When  an  apple  dries  and 
shrivels  in  winter,  the  surface  becomes  covered 


216 


THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE 


CHAP. 


with  ridges.  Or  again,  if  we  place  some  sheets 
of  paper  between  two  weights  on  a  table,  and 
then  bring  the  weights  nearer  together,  the 
paper  will  be  crumpled  up. 

In  the  same  way  let  us  take  a  section  of 
the  earth's  surface  AB  (Fig.  17),  and  suppose 
that,  by  the  gradual  cooling  and  consequent 
contraction  of  the  mass,  AB  sinks  to  A'B', 


Fig.  17.  — Adapted  from  Ball's  paper  "  On  the  Formation  of  Alpine  Valleys 
and  Lakes,"  Land,  and  Ed.  Phil.  Mag.  1863,  p.  96. 


then  to  A"B",  and  finally  to  A'"B'".  Of 
course  if  the  cooling  of  the  surface  and  of  the 
deeper  portion  were  the  same,  then  the  strata 
between  A  and  B  would  themselves  contract, 
and  might  consequently  still  form  a  regular 
curve  between  A"'  and  B'".  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  however,  the  strata  at  the  surface  of  our 
globe  have  long  since  approached  a  constant 
temperature.  Under  these  circumstances 
there  would  be  no  contraction  of  the  strata 
between  A  and  B  corresponding  to  that  of 


vi  MOUNTAINS  217 

those  in  the  interior,  and  consequently  they 
could  not  lie  flat  between  A'"  and  B"',  but 
must  be  thrown  into  folds,  commencing  along 
any  line  of  least  resistance.  Sometimes  in- 
deed the  strata  are  completely  inverted,  as 
in  Fig.  19,  and  in  other  cases  they  have 
been  squeezed  for  miles  out  of  their  original 
position.  This  explanation  was  first,  I  be- 
lieve, suggested  by  Steno.  It  has  been  re- 
cently developed  by  Ball  arid  Suess,  and  espe- 
cially by  Heim.  In  this  manner  it  is  probable 
that  most  mountain  chains  originated.1 

The  structure  of  mountain  districts  confirms 
this  theoretical  explanation.  It  is  obvious 
of  course  that  when  strata  are  thrown  into 
folds,  they  will,  if  strained  too  much,  give 
way  at  the  summit  of  the  fold.  Before  doing 
so,  however,  they  are  stretched  and  conse- 
quently loosened,  while  on  the  other  hand  the 
strata  at  the  bottom  of  the  fold  are  compressed : 
the  former,  therefore,  are  rendered  more  sus- 
ceptible of  disintegration,  the  latter  on  the 
contrary  acquire  greater  powers  of  resistance. 

1See  especially  Helm's  great  work,  Unt.  u.  d.  Mechanismus 
der  Gebirgsbildung. 


218  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP,  vi 

Hence  denudation  will  act  with  more  effect 
on  the  upper  than  on  the  lower  portion 
of  the  folds,  and  if  continued  long  enough, 
so  that,  as  shown  in  the  above  diagram,  the 
dotted  portion  is  removed,  we  find  the  origi- 
nal hill  tops  replaced  by  valleys,  and  the  origi- 
nal valleys  forming  the  hill  tops.  Every 
visitor  to  Switzerland  must  have  noticed  hills 
where  the  strata  lie  as  shown  in  parts  of  Fig. 
18,  and  where  it  is  obvious  that  strata  corre- 
sponding to  those  in  dots  must  have  been  origi- 
nally present. 

In  the  Jura,  for  instance,  a  glance  at  any 
good  map  of  the  district  will  show  a  succes- 
sion of  ridges  running  parallel  to  one  another 
in  a  slightly  curved  line  from  S.W.  to  N.E. 
That  these  ridges  are  due  to  folds  of  the 
earth's  surface  is  clear  from  the  following 
figure  in  Jaccard's  work  on  the  Geology  of  the 
Jura,  showing  a  section  from  Brenets  due 
couth  to  Neuchatel  by  Le  Locle.  These  folds 
are  comparatively  slight  and  the  hills  of  no 
great  height.  Further  south,  however,  the 
strata  are  much  more  violently  dislocated  and 
compressed  together.  The  Mont  Saleve  is  the 
remnant  of  one  of  these  ridges. 


220  THE    BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP,  vi 

In  the  Alps  the  contortions  are  much 
greater  than  in  the  Jura.  Fig.  19  shows  a 
section  after  Heim,  from  the  Spitzen  across 
the  Brunnialp,  and  the  Maderanerthal.  It 
is  obvious  that  the  valleys  are  due  mainly  to 
erosion,  that  the  Maderaner  valley  has  been 
cut  out  of  the  crystalline  rocks  s,  and  was 
once  covered  by  the  Jurassic  strata  j,  which 
must  have  formerly  passed  in  a  great  arch 
over  what  is  now  the  valley. 

However  improbable  it  may  seem  that  so 
great  an  amount  of  rock  should  have  dis- 
appeared, evidence  is  conclusive.  Ramsay  has 
shown  that  in  some  parts  of  Wales  not  less 
than  29,000  feet  have  been  removed,  while 
there  is  strong  reason  for  the  belief  that  in 
Switzerland  an  amount  has  been  carried  away 
equal  to  the  present  height  of  the  mountains ; 
though  of  course  it  does  not  follow  that  the 
Alps  were  once  twice  as  high  as  they  are  at 
present,  because  elevation  and  erosion  must 
have  gone  on  contemporaneously. 

It  has  been  calculated  that  the  strata 
between  Bale  and  the  St.  Gotthard  have 
been  compressed  from  202  miles  to  130 


222  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

miles,  the  Ardennes  from  50  to  25  miles, 
and  the  Appalachians  from  153  miles  to 
65 !  Prof.  Gumbel  has  recently  expressed 
the  opinion  that  the  main  force  to  which 
the  elevation  of  the  Alps  was  due  acted 
along  the  main  axis  of  elevation.  Exactly 
the  opposite  inference  would  seem  really  to 
follow  from  the  facts.  If  the  centre  of  force 
were  along  the  axis  of  elevation,  the  result 
would,  as  Suess  and  Heim  have  pointed  out, 
be  to  extend,  not  to  compress,  the  strata; 
and  the  folds  would  remain  quite  unaccounted 
for.  The  suggestion  of  compression  is  on  the 
contrary  consistent  with  the  main  features  of 
Swiss  geography.  The  principal  axis  follows 
a  curved  line  from  the  Maritime  Alps  towards 
the  north-east  by  Mont  Blanc  and  Monte 
Rosa  and  St.  Gotthard  to  the  mountains  over- 
looking the  Engadine.  The  geological  strata 
follow  the  same  direction.  North  of  a  line 
running  through  Chambery,  Yverdun,  Neu- 
chatel,  Solothurn,  and  Olten  to-Waldshut  on 
the  Rhine  are  Jurassic  strata ;  between  that 
line  and  a  second  nearly  parallel  and  running 
through  Annecy,  Vevey,  Lucerne,  Wesen, 


vi  MOUNTAINS  223 

Appenzell,  and  Bregenz  on  the  Lake  of  Con- 
stance, is  the  lowland  occupied  by  later 
Tertiary  strata ;  between  this  second  line 
and  another  passing  through  Albertville,  St. 
Maurice,  Lenk,  Meiringen,  and  Altdorf  lies  a 
more  or  less  broken  band  of  older  Tertiary 
strata ;  south  of  which  are  a  Cretaceous  zone, 
one  of  Jurassic  age,  then  a  band  of  crystalline 
rocks,  while  the  central  core,  so  to  say,  of  the 
Alps,  as  for  instance  at  St.  Gotthard,  consists 
mainly  of  gneiss  or  granite.  The  sedimentary 
deposits  reappear  south  of  the  Alps,  and  in 
the  opinion  of  some  high  authorities,  as,  for 
instance,  of  Bonney  and  Heim,  passed  con- 
tinuously over  the  intervening  regions.  The 
last  great  upheaval  commenced  after  the 
Miocene  period,  and  continued  through  the 
Pliocene.  Miocene  strata  attain  in  the  Eighi 
a  height  of  6000  feet. 

For  neither  the  hills  nor  the  mountains  are 
everlasting,  or  of  the  same  age. 

The  Welsh  mountains  are  older  than  the 
Yosges,  the  Yosges  than  the  Pyrenees,  the  Pyr- 
enees than  the  Alps,  and  the  Alps  than  the 
Andes,  which  indeed  are  still  rising  ;  so  that 


224  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

if  our  English  mountains  are  less  imposing 
so  far  as  mere  height  is  concerned,  they  are 
most  venerable  from  their  great  antiquity. 

But  though  the  existing  Alps  are  in  one 
sense,  and  speaking  geologically,  very  recent, 
there  is  strong  reason  for  believing  that  there 
was  a  chain  of  lofty  mountains  there  long 
previously.  "  The  first  indication,"  says  Judd, 
"  of  the  existence  of  a  line  of  weakness  in  this 
portion  of  the  earth's  crust  is  found  towards 
the  close  of  the  Permian  period,  when  a  series 
of  volcanic  outbursts  on  the  very  grandest 
scale  took  place  "  along  a  line  nearly  follow- 
ing that  of  the  present  Alps,  and  led  to  the 
formation  of  a  range  of  mountains,  which,  in 
his  opinion,  must  have  been  at  least  8000  to 
9000  feet  high.  Ramsay  and  Bonney  have 
also  given  strong  reasons  for  believing 
that  the  present  line  of  the  Alps  was,  at  a 
still  earlier  period,  occupied  by  a  range 
of  mountains  no  less  lofty  than  those  of 
to-day.  Thus  then,  though  the  present  Alps 
are  comparatively  speaking  so  recent,  there 
are  good  grounds  for  the  belief  that  they  were 
preceded  by  one  or  more  earlier  ranges,  once 


vi  MOUNTAINS  225 

as  lofty  as  they  are  now,  but  which  were  more 
or  less  completely  levelled  by  the  action  of  air 
and  water,  just  as  is  happening  now  to  the 
present  mountain  ranges. 

Movements  of  elevation  and  subsidence  are 
still  going  on  in  various  parts  of  the  world. 
Scandinavia  is  rising  in  the  north,  and  sink- 
ing at  the  south.  South  America  is  rising  on 
the  west  and  sinking  in  the  east,  rotating  in 
fact  on  its  axis,  like  some  stupendous  pendu- 
lum. 

The  crushing  and  folding  of  the  strata  to 
which  mountain  chains  are  due,  and  of  which 
the  Alps  afford  such  marvellous  illustrations, 
necessarily  give  rise  to  Earthquakes,  and  the 
slight  shocks  so  frequent  in  parts  of  Switzer- 
land1 appear  to  indicate  that  the  forces  which 
have  raised  the  Alps  are  not  yet  entirely  spent, 
and  that  slow  subterranean  movements  are  still 
in  progress  along  the  flanks  of  the  mountains. 

But  if  the  mountain  chains  are  due  to  com- 
pression, the  present  valleys  are  mainly  the 
result  of  denudation.  As  soon  as  a  mountain 
range  is  once  raised,  all  nature  seems  to  con- 

1  In  the  last  150  years  more  than  1000  are  recorded. 
Q 


226  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

spire  against  it.  Sun  and  Frost,  Heat  and 
Cold,  Air  and  Water,  Ice  and  Snow,  every 
plant,  from  the  Lichen  to  the  Oak,  and  every 
animal,  from  the  Worm  to  Man  himself,  com- 
bine to  attack  it.  Water,  however,  is  the 
most  powerful  agent  of  all.  The  autumn  rains 
saturate  every  pore  and  cranny ;  the  water  as 
it  freezes  cracks  and  splits  the  hardest  rocks ; 
while  the  spring  sun  melts  the  snow  and  swells 
the  rivers,  which  in  their  turn  carry  off  the 
debris  to  the  plains. 

Perhaps,  however,  it  would  after  all  be  more 
correct  to  say  that  Nature,  like  some  great 
artist,  carves  the  shapeless  block  into  form,  and 
endows  the  rude  mass  with  life  and  beauty. 

"  What  more,"  said  Hutton  long  ago,  ."  is 
required  to  explain  the  configuration  of  our 
mountains  and  valleys  ?  Nothing  but  time. 
It  is  not  any  part  of  the  process  that  will  be 
disputed  ;  but,  after  allowing  all  the  parts,  the 
whole  will  be  denied ;  and  for  what  ?  Only 
because  we  are  not  disposed  to  allow  that 
quantity  of  time  which  the  absolution  of  so 
much  wasted  mountain  might  require." 

The  tops  of   the    Swiss   mountains    stand, 


vi  MOUNTAINS  227 

and  since  their  elevation  have  probably 
always  stood,  above  the  range  of  ice,  and 
hence  their  bold  peaks.  In  Scotland,  on 
the  contrary,  and  still  more  in  Norway,  the 
sheet  of  ice  which  once,  as  is  the  case  with 
Greenland  now,  spread  over  the  whole  coun- 
try, has  shorn  off  the  summits  and  reduced 
them  almost  to  gigantic  bosses ;  while  in 
Wales  the  same  causes,  together  with  the 
resistless  action  of  time  —  for,  as  already 
mentioned,  the  Welsh  hills  are  far  older 
than  the  mountains  of  Switzerland  —  has 
ground  down  the  once  lofty  summits  and 
reduced  them  to  mere  stumps,  such  as,  if 
the  present  forces  are  left  to  work  out  their 
results,  the  Swiss  mountains  will  be  thou- 
sands, or  rather  tens  of  thousands,  of  years 
hence. 

The  "  snow  line  "  in  Switzerland  is  gener- 
ally given  as  being  between  8500  and  9000 
feet.  Above  this  level  the  snow  or  neve 
gradually  accumulates  until  it  forms  "  glac- 
iers," solid  rivers  of  ice  which  descend  more 
or  less  far  down  the  valleys.  No  one  who 
has  not  seen  a  glacier  can  possibly  realise 


CHAP,  vi  MOUNTAINS  229 

what  they  are  like.  Fig.  20  represents  the 
glacier  of  the  Bliimlis  Alp,  and  the  Plate 
the  Mer  de  Glace. 

They  are  often  very  beautiful.  "  Mount 
Beerenberg,"  says  Lord  Dufferin,  "  in  size, 
colour,  and  effect  far  surpassed  anything  I 
had  anticipated.  The  glaciers  were  quite 
an  unexpected  element  of  beauty.  Imagine 
a  mighty  river,  of  as  great  a  volume  as  the 
Thames,  started  down  the  side  of  a  moun- 
tain, bursting  over  every  impediment,  whirled 
into  a  thousand  eddies,  tumbling  and  rag- 
ing on  from  ledge  to  ledge  in  quivering 
cataracts  of  foam,  then  suddenly  struck 
rigid  by  a  power  so  instantaneous  in  its 
action  that  even  the  froth  and  fleeting 
wreaths  of  spray  have  stiffened  to  the  immu- 
tability of  sculpture.  Unless  you  had  seen 
it,  it  would  be  almost  impossible  to  conceive 
the  strangeness  of  the  contrast  between  the 
actual  tranquillity  of  these  silent  crystal 
rivers  and  the  violent  descending  energy 
impressed  upon  their  exterior.  You  must 
remember  too  all  this  is  upon  a  scale  of  such 
prodigious  magnitude,  that  when  we  sue- 


230  THE    BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

ceeded  subsequently  in  approaching  the  spot 
—  where  with  a  leap  like  that  of  Niagara 
one  of  these  glaciers  plunges  down  into  the 
sea  —  the  eye,  no  longer  able  to  take  in  its 
fluvial  character,  was  content  to  rest  in 
simple  astonishment  at  what  then  appeared 
a  lucent  precipice  of  grey-green  ice,  rising 
to  the  height  of  several  hundred  feet  above 
the  masts  of  the  vessel."  1 

The  cliffs  above  glaciers  shower  down 
fragments  of  rock  which  gradually  accu- 
mulate at  the  sides  and  at  the  end  of 
the  glaciers,  forming  mounds  known  as 
"  moraines."  Many  ancient  moraines  occur 
far  beyond  the  present  region  of  glaciers. 

In  considering  the  condition  of  alpine 
valleys  we  must  remember  that  the  glaciers 
formerly  descended  much  further  than  they 
do  at  present.  The  glaciers  of  the  Rhone 
for  instance  occupied  the  whole  of  the  Valais, 
filled  the  Lake  of  Geneva  —  or  rather  the 
site  now  occupied  by  that  lake  —  and  rose 
2000  feet  up  the  slopes  of  the  Jura ;  the 
Upper  Ticino,  and  contributory  valleys,  were 

1  Letters  from  High  Latitudes. 


vi  MOUNTAINS  231 

occupied  by  another  which  filled  the  basin 
of  the  Lago  Maggiore  ;  a  third  occupied  the 
valley  of  the  Dora  Baltea,  and  has  left  a 
moraine  at  Ivrea  some  twenty  miles  long,  and 
which  rises  no  less  than  1500  feet  above  the 
present  level  of  the  river.  The  Scotch  and 
Scandinavian  valleys  were  similarly  filled 
by  rivers  of  ice/  which  indeed  at  one  time 
covered  the  whole  country  with  an  immense 
sheet,  as  Greenland  is  at  present.  Enor- 
mous blocks  of  stone,  the  Pierre  a  Niton 
at  Geneva  and  the  Pierre  a  Bot  above 
Neuchatel,  for  instance,  were  carried  by 
these  glaciers  for  miles  and  miles ;  and  many 
of  the  stones  in  the  Norfolk  cliffs  were 
brought  by  ice  from  Norway  (perhaps,  how- 
ever, by  Icebergs),  across  what  is  now  the 
German  Ocean.  Again  wherever  the  rocks 
are  hard  enough  to  have  withstood  the 
weather,  we  find  them  polished  and  ground, 
just  as,  and  even  more  so  than,  those  at  the 
ends  and  sides  of  existing  glaciers. 

The  most  magnificent  glacier  tracks  in  the 
Alps  are,  in  Ruskin's  opinion,  those  on  the 
rocks  of  the  great  angle  opposite  Martigny ; 


232  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

the  most  interesting  those  above  the  channel 
of  the  Trient  between  Valorsine  and  the  valley 
of  the  Rhone. 

In  Great  Britain  I  know  no  better  illus- 
tration of  ice  action  than  is  to  be  seen  on  the 
road  leading  down  from  Glen  Quoich  to  Loch 
Hourn,  one  of  the  most  striking  examples  of 
desolate  and  savage  scenery  in  Scotland.  Its 
name  in  Celtic  is  said  to  mean  the  Lake  of 
Hell.  All  along  the  roadside  are  smoothed 
and  polished  hummocks  of  rock,  most  of  them 
deeply  furrowed  with  approximately  parallel 
striae,  presenting  a  gentle  slope  on  the  upper 
end,  and  a  steep  side  below,  clearly  showing 
the  direction  of  the  great  ice  flow. 

Many  of  the  upper  Swiss  valleys  contain 
lakes,  as,  for  instance,  that  of  the  Upper 
Rhone,  the  Lake  of  Geneva,  of  the  Reuss,  the 
Lake  of  Lucerne,  of  the  Rhine,  that  of  Con- 
stance. These  lakes  are  generally  very  deep. 

The  colour  of  the  upper  rivers,  which  are 
white  with  the  diluvium  from  the  glaciers,  is 
itself  evidence  of  the  erosive  powers  which 
they  exercise.  This  finely-divided  matter  is, 
however,  precipitated  in  the  lakes,  which,  as 


vi  MOUNTAINS  233 

well  as  the  rivers  issuing  from  them,  are  a 
beautiful  rich  blue. 

"Is  it  not  probable  that  this  action  of 
finely-divided  niatter  may  have  some  influ- 
ence on  the  colour  of  some  of  the  Swiss  lakes 
-  as  that  of  Geneva  for  example  ?  This  lake 
is  simply  an  expansion  of  the  river  Rhone, 
which  rushes  from  the  end  of  the  Rhone 
glacier,  as  the  Arveiron  does  from  the  end  of 
the  Mer  de  Glace.  Numerous  other  streams 
join  the  Rhone  right  and  left  during  its 
downward  course;  and  these  feeders,  being 
almost  wholly  derived  from  glaciers,  join  the 
Rhone  charged  with  the  finer  matter  which 
these  in  their  motion  have  ground  from  the 
rocks  over  which  they  have  passed.  But  the 
glaciers  must  grind  the  mass  beneath  them 
to  particles  of  all  sizes,  and  I  cannot  help 
thinking  that  the  finest  of  them  must  remain 
suspended  in  the  lake  throughout  its  entire 
length.  Faraday  has  shown  that  a  precipi- 
tate of  gold  may  require  months  to  sink  to 
the  bottom  of  a  bottle  not  more  than  five 
inches  high,  and  in  all  probability  it  would 
require  ages  of  calm  subsidence  to  bring  all 


234  THE  BEAUTIES  OF  NATUJRE  CHAP. 

the  particles  which  the  Lake  of  Geneva  con- 
tains to  its  bottom.  It  seems  certainly  worthy 
of  examination  whether  such  particles  sus- 
pended in  the  water  contribute  to  the  pro- 
duction of  that  magnificent  blue  which  has 
excited  the  admiration  of  all  who  have  seen 
it  under  favourable  circumstances."  1 

Among  the  Swiss  mountains  themselves 
each  has  its  special  character.  Tyndall  thus 
describes  a  view  in  the  Alps,  certainly  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  —  that,  namely,  from  the 
summit  of  the  ^Egischhorn. 

"Skies  and  summits  are  to-day  without  a 
cloud,  and  no  mist  or  turbidity  interferes 
with  the  sharpness  of  the  outlines.  Jung- 
frau,  Monk,  Eiger,  Trugberg,  cliffy  Strahlgrat, 
stately  lady-like  Aletschhorn,  all  grandly 
pierce  the  empyrean.  Like  a  Saul  of  Moun- 
tains, the  Finsteraarhorn  overtops  all  his 
neighbours ;  then  we  have  the  Oberaarhorn, 
with  the  riven  glacier  of  Viesch  rolling  from 
his  shoulders.  Below  is  the  Marjelin  See, 
Avith  its  crystal  precipices  and  its  floating  ice- 
bergs, snowy  white,  sailing  on  a  blue  green 

1  Glaciers  of  the  Alps. 


vi  MOUNTAINS  235 

sea.  Beyond  is  the  range  which  divides  the 
Valais  from  Italy.  Sweeping  round,  the 
vision  meets  an  aggregate  of  peaks  which  look 
as  fledglings  to  their  mother  towards  the 
mighty  Dom.  Then  come  the  repellent  crags 
of  Mont  Cervin ;  the  ideal  of  moral  savagery, 
of  wild  untameable  ferocity,  mingling  involun- 
tarily with  our  contemplation  of  the  gloomy 
pile.  Next  comes  an  object,  scarcely  less 
grand,  conveying,  it  may  be,  even  a  deeper 
impression  of  majesty  and  might  than  the 
Matterhorn  itself  — the  Weisshorn,  perhaps 
the  most  splendid  object  in  the  Alps.  But 
beauty  is  associated  with  its  force,  and  we 
think  of  it,  not  as  cruel,  but  as  grand  and 
strong.  Further  to  the  right  the  great 
Combin  lifts  up  his  bare  head;  other  peaks 
crowd  around  him ;  while  at  the  extremity  of 
the  curve  round  which  our  gaze  has  swept 
rises  the  sovran  crown  of  Mont  Blanc.  And 
now,  as  day  sinks,  scrolls  of  pearly  clouds 
draw  themselves  around  the  mountain  crests, 
being  wafted  from  them  into  the  distant  air. 
They  are  without  colour  of  any  kind ;  still,  by 
grace  of  form,  and  as  the  embodiment  of 


236  THE  BEAUTIES  OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

lustrous  light  and  most   tender  shade,  their 
beauty  is  not  to  be  described."  1 


VOLCANOES 

Volcanoes  belong  to  a  totally  different 
series  of  mountains. 

It  is  practically  impossible  to  number  the 
Volcanoes  on  our  earth.  Humboldt  enumer- 
ated 223,  which  Keith  Johnston  raised  to 
nearly  300.  Some,  no  doubt,  are  always 
active,  but  in  the  majority  the  eruptions  are 
occasional,  and  though  some  are  undoubtedly 
now  extinct,  it  is  impossible  in  all  cases  to 
distinguish  those  which  are  only  in  repose 
from  those  whose  day  of  activity  is  over. 
Then,  again,  the  question  would  arise,  which 
should  be  regarded  as  mere  subsidiary  cones 
and  which  are  separate  volcanoes.  The 
slopes  of  Etna  present  more  than  700  small 
cones,  and  on  Hawaii  there  are  several 
thousands.  In  fact,  most  of  the  very  lofty 
volcanoes  present  more  or  less  lateral  cones. 

The   molten    matter,    welling   up  through 

1  Mountaineering  in  1861. 


VI 


MOUNTAINS 


237 


some  fissure,  gradually  builds  itself  up  into 
a  cone,  often  of  the  most  beautiful  regularity, 
such  as  the  gigantic  peaks  of  Chimporazo, 
Cotopaxi  (Fig.  21),  and  Fusiyama,  and  hence 
it  is  that  the  crater  is  so  often  at,  or  very 
near,  the  summit. 

Perhaps  no  spectacle  in  Nature  is  more 
magnificent  than  a  Volcano  in  activity.  It 
has  been  my  good  fortune  to  have  stood 


Fig.  21.  — Cotopaxi. 

more  than  once  at  the  edge  of  the  crater 
of  Vesuvius  during  an  eruption,  to  have 
watched  the  lava  seething  below,  while  enor- 
mous stones  were  shot  up  high  into  the  air. 
Such  a  spectacle  can  never  be  forgotten. 


238  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE          CHAP,  vi 

The  most  imposing  crater  in  the  world  is 
probably  that  of  Kilauea,  at  a  height  of 
about  4000  feet  on  the  side  of  Mouna  Loa, 
in  the  Island  of  Hawaii.  It  has  a  diameter 
of  2  miles,  and  is  elliptic  in  outline,  with  a 
longer  axis  of  about  3,  and  a  circumference 
of  about  7  miles.  The  interior  is  a  great 
lake  of  lava,  the  level  of  which  is  constantly 
changing.  Generally,  it  stands  about  800 
feet  below  the  edge,  and  the  depth  is  about 
1400  feet.  The  heat  is  intense,  and,  espe- 
cially at  night,  when  the  clouds  are  coloured 
scarlet  by  the  reflection  from  the  molten 
lava,  the  effect  is  said  to  be  magnificent. 
Gradually  the  lava  mounts  in  the  crater 
until  it  either  bursts  through  the  side  or 
runs  over  the  edge,  after  which  the  crater 
remains  empty,  sometimes  for  years. 

A  lava  stream  flows  down  the  slope  of 
the  mountain  like  a  burning  river,  at  first 
rapidly,  but  as  it  cools,  scoriae  gradually 
form,  and  at  length  the  molten  matter 
covers  itself  completely  (Fig.  22),  both  above 
and  at  the  sides,  with  a  solid  crust,  within 
which,  as  in  a  tunnel,,  it  continues  to  flow 


Fig.  22.  — Lava  Stream. 


240  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

slowly  as  long  as  it  is  supplied  from  the 
source,  here  and  there  breaking  through  the 
crust  which,  as  continually.,  re-forms  in  front. 
Thus  the  terrible,  inexorable  river  of  fire 
slowly  descends,  destroying  everything  in 
its  course. 

The  stream  of  lava  which  burst  from 
Mouna  Loa  in  1885  had  a  length  of  70  miles; 
that  of  Skaptar-Jokul  in  Iceland  in  1783  had 
a  length  of  50  miles,  and  a  maximum  depth 
of  nearly  500  feet.  It  has  been  calculated  that 
the  mass  of  lava  equalled  that  of  Mont  Blanc. 

The  stones,  ashes,  and  mud  ejected  during 
eruptions  are  even  more  destructive  than  the 
rivers  of  lava.  In  1851  Tomboro,  a  volcano 
on  the  Island  of  Sumbava,  cost  more  lives 
than  fell  in  the  battle  of  Waterloo.  The 
earthquake  of  Lisbon  in  1755  destroyed 
60,000  persons.  During  the  earthquake  of 
Riobamba  and  the  mud  eruption  of  Tungu- 
ragua,  and  again  in  that  of  Krakatoa,  it  is 
estimated  that  the  number  who  perished  was 
between  30,000  and  40,000.  At  the  earth- 
quake of  Antioch  in  526  no  less  than  200,000 
persons  are  said  to  have  lost  their  lives. 


vi  MOUNTAINS  241 

Perhaps  the  most  destructive  eruption  of 
modern  times  has  been  that  on  Cosequina. 
For  25  miles  it  covered  the  ground  with 
muddy  water  16  feet  in  depth.  The  dust 
and  ashes  formed  a  dense  cloud,  extending 
over  many  miles,  some  of  it  being  carried  20 
degrees  to  the  west.  The  total  mass  ejected 
has  been  estimated  at  60  milliards  of  square 
yards. 

Stromboli,  in  the  Mediterranean  (Fig.  23), 
though  only  2500  feet  in  height,  is  very  im- 
posing from  its  superb  regularity,  and  its 
roots  plunge  below  the  surface  to  a  depth  of 
4000  feet. 

It  is,  moreover,  very  interesting  from  the 
regularity  of  its  action,  which  has  a  period 
of  5  minutes  or  a  little  less.  On  looking 
down  into  the  crater  one  sees  at  a  depth  of 
say  300  feet  a  seething  mass  of  red-hot  lava ; 
this  gradually  rises,  and  then  explodes,  throw- 
ing up  a  cloud  of  vapour  and  stones,  after 
which  it  sinks  again.  So  regular  is  it  that 
the  Volcano  has  been  compared  to  a  "flashing" 
lighthouse,  and  this  wonderful  process  has 
been  going  on  for  ages. 


CHAP,  vi  MOUNTAINS  243 

Though  long  extinct,  volcanoes  once  existed 
in  the  British  Isles ;  Arthur's  Seat,  near 
Edinburgh,  for  instance,  appears  to  be  the 
funnel  of  a  small  volcano,  belonging  to  the 
Carboniferous  period. 

The  summit  of  a  volcanic  mountain  is 
sometimes  entirely  blown  away.  Between 
my  first  two  visits  to  Vesuvius  200  feet  of  the 
mountain  had  thus  disappeared.  Vesuvius 
itself  stands  in  a  more  ancient  crater,  part 
of  which  still  remains,  and  is  now  known  as 
Somma,  the  greater  portion  having  disap- 
peared in  the  great  eruption  of  79,  when  the 
mountain,  waking  from  its  long  sleep,  de- 
stroyed Herculaneum  and  Pompeii. 

As  regards  the  origin  of  volcanoes  there 
have  been  two  main  theories.  Impressed  by 
the  magnitude  and  grandeur  of  the  phenom- 
ena, enhanced  as  they  are  by  their  destruc- 
tive character,  many  have  been  disposed  to 
regard  the  craters  of  volcanoes  as  gigantic 
chimneys,  passing  right  through  the  solid 
crust  of  the  globe,  and  communicating  with 
a  central  fire.  Eecent  researches,  however, 
have  indicated  that,  grand  and  imposing  as 


244  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

they  are,  volcanoes  must  yet  be  regarded  as 
due  mainly  to  local  and  superficial  causes. 

A  glance  at  the  map  shows  that  volcanoes 
are  almost  always  situated  on,  or  near,  the  sea 
coast.  From  the  interior  of  continents  they 
are  entirely  wanting.  The  number  of  active 
volcanoes  in  the  Andes,  contrasted  with  their 
absence  in  the  Alps  and  Ourals,  the  Hima- 
layas, and  Central  Asian  chains,  is  very  strik- 
ing. Indeed,  the  Pacific  Ocean  is  encircled, 
as  Ritter  has  pointed  out,  by  a  ring  of  fire. 
Beginning  with  New  Zealand,  we  have  the 
Volcanoes  of  Tongariro,  Whakaii,  etc. ;  thence 
the  circle  passes  through  the  Fiji  Islands,  Sol- 
omon Islands,  New  Guinea,  Timor,  Flores, 
Sumbava,  Lombock,  Java,  Sumatra,  the  Philip- 
pines, Japan,  the  Aleutian  Islands,  along  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  Mexico,  Peru,  and  Chili,  to 
Tierra  del  Fuego,  and,  in  the  far  south,  to  the 
two  great  Volcanoes  of  Erebus  and  Terror  on 
Victoria  Land. 

We  know  that  the  contraction  of  the 
Earth's  surface  with  the  strains  and  fractures, 
the  compression  and  folds,  which  must  inevi- 
tably result,  is  still  in  operation,  and  must 


vi  MOUNTAINS  245 

give  rise  to  areas  of  high  temperature,  and 
consequently  to  volcanoes.  We  must  also 
remember  that  the  real  mountain  chains  of 
our  earth  are  the  continents,  compared  to 
which  even  the  Alps  and  Andes  are  mere 
wrinkles.  It  is  along  the  lines  of  the  great 
mountain  chains,  that  is  to  say,  along  the 
main  coast  lines,  rather  than  in  the  centres  of 
the  continents,  which  may  be  regarded  as  com- 
paratively quiescent,  that  we  should  naturally 
expect  to  find  the  districts  of  greatest  heat, 
and  this  is  perhaps  why  volcanoes  are  gener- 
ally distributed  along  the  coast  lines. 

Another  reason  for  regarding  Volcanoes  as 
local  phenomena  is  that  many  even  of  those 
comparatively  near  one  another  act  quite 
independently.  This  is  so  with  Kilauea  and 
Mouna  Loa,  both  on  the  small  island  of 
Hawaii. 

Again,  if  volcanoes  were  in  connection 
with  a  great  central  sea  of  fire,  the  erup- 
tions must  follow  the  same  laws  as  regulate 
the  tides.  This,  however,  is  not  the  case. 
There  are  indeed  indications  of  the  exist- 
ence of  slight  tides  in  the  molten  lake  which 


246  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

underlies  Vesuvius,  and  during  the  eruption 
of  1865  there  was  increased  activity  twice 
a  day,  as  we  should  expect  to  find  in  any 
great  fluid  reservoir,  but  very  different  indeed 
from  what  must  have  been  the  case  if  the 
mountain  was  in  connection  with  a  central 
ocean  of  molten  matter. 

Indeed,  unless  the  "  crust  "  of  our  earth 
was  of  great  thickness  we  should  be  subject 
to  perpetual  earthquakes.  No  doubt  these 
are  far  more  frequent  than  is  generally 
supposed ;  indeed,  with  our  improved  in- 
struments it  can  be  shown  that  instead  of 
occasional  vibrations,  with  long  intermediate 
periods  of  rest,  we  have  in  reality  short 
intervals  of  rest  with  long  periods  of  vibra- 
tion, or  rather  perhaps  that  the  crust  of  the 
earth  is  in  constant  tremor,  with  more 
violent  oscillation  from  time  to  time. 

It  appears,  moreover,  that  earthquakes 
are  not  generally  deep-seated.  The  point  at 
which  the  shock  is  vertical  can  be  ascer- 
tained, and  it  is  also  possible  in  some  cases 
to  determine  the  angle  at  which  it  emerges 
elsewhere.  When  this  has  been  done  it  has 


vi  MOUNTAINS  247 

always  been  found  that  the  seat  of  disturb- 
ance must  have  been  within  30  geographical 
miles  of  the  surface. 

Yet,  though  we  cannot  connect  volcanic 
action  with  the  central  heat  of  the  earth, 
but  must  regard  it  as  a  minor  and  local 
manifestation  of  force,  volcanoes  still  remain 
among  the  grandest,  most  awful,  and  at  the 
same  time  most  magnificent  spectacles  which 
the  earth  can  afford. 


CHAPTER   VII 

WATER 


Of  all  inorganic  substances,  acting  in  their  own  proper 
nature,  and  without  assistance  or  combination,  water  is  the 
most  wonderful.  If  we  think  of  it  as  the  source  of  all  the 
changefulness  and  beauty  which  we  have  seen  in  the  clouds ; 
then  as  the  instrument  by  which  the  earth  we  have  contem- 
plated was  modelled  into  symmetry,  and  its  crags  chiselled 
into  grace ;  then  as,  in  the  form  of  snow,  it  robes  the  moun- 
tains it  has  made,  with  that  transcendent  light  which  we 
could  not  have  conceived  if  we  had  not  seen ;  then  as  it 
exists  in  the  foam  of  the  torrent,  in  the  iris  which  spans  it, 
in  the  morning  mist  which  rises  from  it,  in  the  deep  crystal- 
line pools  which  mirror  its  hanging  shore,  in  the  broad  lake 
and  glancing  river,  finally,  in  that  which  is  to  all  human 
minds  the  best  emblem  of  unwearied,  unconquerable  power, 
the  wild,  various,  fantastic,  tameless  unity  of  the  sea;  what 
shall  we  compare  to  this  mighty,  this  universal  element,  for 
glory  and  for  beauty  ?  or  how  shall  we  follow  its  eternal 
cheerfulness  of  feeling?  It  is  like  trying  to  paint  a  soul. — 

RUSKIN. 


/?>    OF  THE 

*7  "X          .        *?sj  Y3    ~*''  T  ^  "tT    * 

**  /> ., 


CHAPTER  VII 

WATER 

IN  the  legends  of  ancient  times  running 
water  was  proof  against  all  sorcery  and 
witchcraft : 

No  spell  could  stay  the  living  tide 
Or  charm  the  rushing  stream.1 

There  was  much  truth  as  well  as  beauty  in 
this  idea. 

Flowing  waters,  moreover,  have  not  only 
power  to  wash  out  material  stains,  but  they 
also  clear  away  the  cobwebs  of  the  brain  — 
the  results  of  over  incessant  work  —  and  re- 
store us  to  health  and  strength. 

Snowfields  and  glaciers,  mountain  torrents, 
sparkling  brooks,  and  stately  rivers,  meres 
and  lakes,  and  last,  not  least,  the  great  ocean 
itself,  all  alike  possess  this  magic  power. 

1  Leyden. 

251 


252  THE   BEAUTIES    OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

"When  I  would  beget  content/'  says  Izaak 
Walton,  "and  increase  confidence  in  the 
power  and  wisdom  and  providence  of  Al- 
mighty God,  I  will  walk  the  meadows  by 
some  gliding  stream,  and  there  contemplate 
the  lilies  that  take  no  care,  and  those  very 
many  other  little  living  creatures  that  are 
not  only  created,  but  fed  (man  knows  not 
how)  by  the  goodness  of  the  God  of  Nature, 
and  therefore  trust  in  Him;"  and  in  his 
quaint  old  language  he  craves  a  special  bless- 
ing on  all  those  "  that  are  true  lovers  of 
virtue,  and  dare  trust  in  His  Providence,  and 
be  quiet,  and  go  a  angling." 

At  the  water's  edge  flowers  are  especially 
varied  and  luxuriant,  so  that  the  batiks  of  a 
river  are  a  long  natural  garden  of  tall  and 
graceful  grasses  and  sedges,  the  Meadow 
Sweet,  the  Flowering  Rush,  the  sweet  Flag, 
the  Bull  Rush,  Purple  Loosestrife,  Hemp 
Agrimony,  Dewberry,  Forget-me-not,  and  a 
hundred  more,  backed  by  Willows,  Alders, 
Poplars,  and  other  trees. 

The  Animal  world,  if  less  conspicuous  to 
the  eye,  is  quite  as  fascinating  to  the  imagina- 


vii  WATER  253 

tion.  Here  and  there  a  speckled  Trout  may 
be  detected  (rather  by  the  shadow  than  the 
substance)  suspended  in  the  clear  water,  or 
darting  across  a  shallow ;  if  we  are  quiet  we 
may  see  Water  Hens  or  Wild  Ducks  swim- 
ming among  the  lilies,  a  Kingfisher. sitting  on 
a  branch  or  flashing  away  like  a  gleam  of 
light ;  a  solemn  Heron  stands  maybe  at  the 
water's  edge,  or  slowly  rises  flapping  his 
great  wings ;  Water  Rats,  neat  and  clean 
little  creatures,  very  different  from  their 
coarse  brown  namesakes  of  the  land,  are 
abundant  everywhere ;  nor  need  we  even  yet 
quite  despair  of  seeing  the  Otter  himself. 

Insects  of  course  are  gay,  lively,  and  in- 
numerable ;  but  after  all  the  richest  fauna  is 
that  visible  only  with  a  microscope. 

"  To  gaze,"  says  Dr.  Hudson,  "  into  that 
wonderful  world  which  lies  in  a  drop  of 
water,  crossed  by  some  stems  of  green  weed, 
to  see  transparent  living  mechanism  at  work, 
and  to  gain  some  idea  of  its  modes  of  action, 
to  watch  a  tiny  speck  that  can  sail  through 
the  prick  of  a  needle's  point ;  to  see  its 
crystal  armour  flashing  with  ever  varying 


254  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

tint,  its  head  glorious  with  the  halo  of  its 
quivering  cilia ;  to  see  it  gliding  through  the 
emerald  stems,  hunting  for  its  food,  snatching 
at  its  prey,  fleeing  from  its  enemy,  chasing  its 
mate  (the  fiercest  of  our  passions  blazing  in 
an  invisible  speck) ;  to  see  it  whirling  in  a 
mad  dance,  to  the  sound  of  its  own  music, 
the  music  of  its  happiness,  the  exquisite  happi- 
ness of  living  —  can  any  one,  who  has  once 
enjoyed  this  sight,  ever  turn  from  it  to  mere 
books  and  drawings,  without  the  sense  that 
lie  has  left  all  Fairyland  behind  him?"  l 

The  study  of  Natural  History  has  indeed 
the  special  advantage  of  carrying  us  into  the 
country  and  the  open  air. 

Lakes  are  even  more  restful  than  rivers  or 
the  sea.  Rivers  are  always  flowing,  though 
it  may  be  but  slowly ;  the  sea  may  rest 
awhile,  now  and  then,  but  is  generally  full  of 
action  and  energy ;  while  lakes  seem  to  sleep 
and  dream.  Lakes  in  a  beautiful  country  are 
like  silver  ornaments  on  a  lovely  dress,  like 
liquid  gems  in  a  beautiful  setting,  or  bright 
eyes  in  a  lovely  face.  Indeed  as  we  gaze 

1  Dr.  Hudson,  Address  to  the  Microscopical  Society,  1889. 


vii  WATER  255 

down  on  a  lake  from  some  hill  or  cliff  it 
almost  looks  solid,  like  some  great  blue 
crystal. 

It  is  not  merely  for  purposes  of  commerce 
or  convenience  that  men  love  to  live  near 
rivers. 

Let  me  live  harmlessly,  and  near  the  brink 
Of  Trent  or  Avon  have  my  dwelling-place  ; 

Where  I  may  see  my  quill,  or  cork,  down  sink, 
With  eager  bite  of  pike,  or  bleak,  or  dace  •, 

And  on  the  world  and  my  Creator  think : 

While  some  men  strive  ill-gotten  goods  t'  embrace  : 

And  others  spend  their  time  in  base  excess 

Of  wine ;  or  worse,  in  war,  or  wantonness. 

Let  them  that  will,  these  pastimes  still  pursue, 
And  on  such  pleasing  fancies  feed  their  fill : 

So  I  the  fields  and  meadows  green  may  view 
And  daily  by  fresh  rivers  walk  at  will, 

Among  the  daisies  and  the  violets  blue, 
Red  hyacinth  and  yellow  daffodil.1 

It  is  interesting  and  delightful  to  trace  a 
river  from  its  source  to  the  sea. 

"  Beginning  at  the  hill-tops/'  says  Geikie, 
"we  first  meet  with  the  spring  or  ' well-eye/ 
from  which  the  river  takes  its  rise.  A  patch 
of  bright  green,  mottling  the  brown  heathy 

1  F.  Davors. 


256  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

slope,  shows  where  the  water  comes  to  the 
surface,  a  treacherous  covering  of  verdure 
often  concealing  a  deep  pool  beneath.  From 
this  source  the  rivulet  trickles  along  the  grass 
and  heath,  which  it  soon  cuts  through,  reach- 
ing the  black,  peaty  layer  below,  and  running 
in  it  for  a  short  way  as  in  a  gutter.  Exca- 
vating its  channel  in  the  peat,  it  comes  down 
to  the  soil,  often  a  stony  earth  bleached  white 
by  the  peat.  Deepening  and  widening  the 
channel  as  it  gathers  force  with  the  increas- 
ing slope,  the  water  digs  into  the  coating  of 
drift  or  loose  decomposed  rock  that  covers 
the  hillside.  In  favourable  localities  a  nar- 
row precipitous  gully,  twenty  or  thirty  feet 
deep,  may  thus  be  scooped  out  in  the  course 
of  a  few  years." 

If,  however,  we  trace  one  of  the  Swiss 
rivers  to  its  source  we  shall  generally  find 
that  it  begins  in  a  snow  field  or  neve  nestled 
in  a  shoulder  of  some  great  mountain. 

Below  the  neve  lies  a  glacier,  on,  in,  and 
under  which  the  water  runs  in  a  thousand 
little  streams,  eventually  emerging  at  the 
end,  in  some  cases  forming  a  beautiful  blue 


WATER 


257 


cavern,  though  in  others  the  end  of  the 
glacier  is  encumbered  and  concealed  by  earth 
and  stones. 


The  uppermost  Alpine  valleys  are  perhaps 
generally,    though   by   no   means   always,    a 


258  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

little  desolate  and  severe,  as,  for  instance, 
that  of  St.  Grotthard  (Fig.  24).  The  sides  are 
clothed  with  rough  pasture,  which  is  flowery 
indeed,  though  of  course  the  flowers  are  not 
visible  at  a  distance,  interspersed  with  live 
rock  and  fallen  masses,  while  along  the 
bottom  rushes  a  white  torrent.  The  snowy 
peaks  are  generally  more  or  less  hidden  by 
the  shoulders  of  the  hills. 

The  valleys  further  down  widen  and  be- 
come more  varied  and  picturesque.  The 
snowy  peaks  and  slopes  are  more  often 
visible,  the  "  alps  "  or  pastures  to  which  the 
cows  are  taken  in  summer,  are  greener  and 
dotted  with  the  huts  or  chalets  of  the  cow- 
herds, while  the  tinkling  of  the  cowbells 
comes  tp  one  from  time  to  time,  softened  by 
distance,  and  suggestive  of  mountain  rambles. 
Below  the  alps  there  is  generally  a  steeper 
part  clothed  with  Firs  or  with  Larches  and 
Pines,  some  of  which  seem  as  if  they  were 
scaling  the  mountains  in  regiments,  preceded 
by  a  certain  number  of  skirmishers.  Below 
the  fir  woods  again  are  Beeches,  Chestnuts, 
and  other  deciduous  trees,  while  the  central 


vii  WATER  259 

cultivated  portion  of  the  valley  is  partly 
arable,  partly  pasture,  the  latter  differing 
from  our  meadows  in  containing  a  greater 
variety  of  flowers  —  Campanulas,  Wild  Ge- 
raniums, Chervil,  Ragged  Robin,  Narcissus, 
etc.  Here  and  there  is  a  brown  village, 
while  more  or  less  in  the  centre  hurries 
along,  with  a  delightful  rushing  sound,  the 
mountain  torrent,  to  which  the  depth,  if  not 
the  very  existence  of  the  valley,  is  mainly 
due.  The  meadows  are  often  carefully 
irrigated,  and  the  water  power  is  also  used 
for  mills,  the  streams  seeming  to  rush  on,  as 
Ruskin  says,  "  eager  for  their  work  at  the 
mill,  or  their  ministry  to  the  meadows." 

Apart  from  the  action  of  running  water, 
snow  and  frost  are  continually  disintegrating 
the  rocks,  and  at  the  base  of  almost  any 
steep  cliff  may  be  seen  a  slope  of  debris 
(as  in  Figs.  25,  26).  This  stands  at  a  regular 
angle  —  the  angle  of  repose  —  and  unless  it 
is  continually  removed  by  a  stream  at  the 
base,  gradually  creeps  up  higher  and  higher, 
until  at  last  the  cliff  entirely  disappears. 

Sometimes   the    two    sides    of    the    valley 


260  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

approach  so  near  that  there  is  not  even  room 
for  the  river  and  the  road :  in  that  case 
Nature  claims  the  supremacy,  and  the  road 
has  to  be  carried  in  a  cutting,  or  perhaps  in 
a  tunnel  through  the  rock.  In  other  cases 
Nature  is  not  at  one  with  herself.  In  many 


Fig.  25.  —  Section  of  a  river  valley.    The  dotted  line  shows  a  slope  or 
talus  of  debris. 

places  the  debris  from  the  rocks  above  would 
reach  right  across  the  valley  and  dam  up  the 
stream.  Then  arises  a  struggle  between 
rock  and  river,  but  the  river  is  always  vic- 
torious in  the  end ;  even  if  dammed  back  for 
a  while,  it  concentrates  its  forces,  rises  up 
the  rampart  of  rock,  rushes  over  trium- 
phantly, resumes  its  original  course,  and 
gradually  carries  the  enemy  away. 


WATER 


261 


Another  prominent  feature  in  many  valleys 
is  afforded  by  the  old  river,  or  lake,  terraces, 


which  were  formed  at  a  time  when  the  river 
ran  at  a  level  far  above  its  present  bed. 


262  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE          CHAP,  vn 

Thus  many  a  mountain  valley  gives  some 
such  section  as  the  following. 


Fig.  27.  —  A,  present  river  valley ;  B,  old  river  terrace. 

First;  a  face  of  rock,  very  steep,  and  in 
some  places  almost  perpendicular;  secondly, 
a  regular  talus  of  fallen  rocks,  stones,  etc., 
as  shown  in  the  view  of  the  Rhone  Valley 
(Fig.  26),  which  takes  what  is  known  as  the 
slope  of  repose,  at  an  angle  which  depends 
on  the  character  of  the  material.  As  a  rule 
for  loose  rock  fragments  it  may  be  taken 
roughly  to  be  an  angle  of  about  45°.  Then 
an  irregular  slope  followed  in  many  places 
by  one  or  more  terraces,  and  lastly  the 
present  bed  of  the  river. 


264  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE         CHAP,  vn 

The  width  or  narrowness  of  the  valley  in 
relation  to  its  depth  depends  greatly  on  the 
condition  of  the  rocks,  the  harder  and  tougher 
they  are  the  narrower  as  a  rule  being  the 
valley. 

From  time  to  time  a  side  stream  enters  the 
main  valley.  This  is  itself  composed  of  many 
smaller  rivulets.  If  the  lateral  valleys  are 
steep,  the  streams  bring  with  them,  especially 
after  rains,  large  quantities  of  earth  and  stones. 
When,  however,  they  reach  the  main  valley, 
the  rapidity  of  the  current  being  less,  their 
power  of  transport  also  diminishes,  and  they 
spread  out  the  material  which  they  carry  down 
in  a  depressed  cone  (Figs.  28,  29,  31,  32). 

A  side  stream  with  its  terminal  cone,  when 
seen  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  valley,  pre- 
sents the  appearance  shown  in  Figs.  28,  31, 
or,  if  we  are  looking  down  the  valley,  as  in 
Figs.  29,  32,  the  river  being  often  driven  to 
one  side  of  the  main  valley,  as,  for  instance, 
is  the  case  in  the  Valais,  near  Sion,  where  the 
Rhone  (Fig.  30)  is  driven  out  of  its  course  by, 
and  forms  a  curve  round,  the  cone  brought 
down  by  the  torrent  of  the  Borgne. 


266 


THE  BEAUTIES  OF  NATURE 


CHAP. 


Sometimes  two  lateral  valleys  (see  Plate) 
come  down  nearly  opposite  one  another,  so 
that  the  cones  meet,  as,  for  instance,  some 
little  way  below  Vernayaz,  and,  indeed,  in 
several  other  places  in  the  Valais  (Fig.  31). 
Or  more  permanent  lakes  may  be  due  to  a 


Fig.  30. 

ridge  of  rock  running  across  the  valley, 
as,  for  instance,  just  below  St.  Maurice  in 
the  Valais. 

Almost  all  river  valleys  contain,  or  have 
contained,  in  their  course  one  or  more  lakes, 
and  where  a  river  falls  into  a  lake  a  cone  like 


rl 


VII 


WATER 


267 


those  just   described  is  formed,  and  projects 
into  the  lake.     Thus  on  the  Lake  of  Geneva, 


between  Yevey  and  Villeneuve  (see  Fig.  33), 
there   are    several    such    promontories,    each 


268 


THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE 


CHAP. 


marking  the  place  where  a  stream  falls  into 
the  lake. 


The    Rhone    itself  has    not  only   filled  up 
what   was  once  the  upper  end  of  the  lake, 


WATER 


269 


but   has  built  out  a  strip  of   land  into  the 
water. 


That  the  lake  formerly  extended  some 
distance  up  the  Valais  no  one  can  doubt 
who  looks  at  the  flat  ground  about  Ville- 


270  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

neuve.  The  Plate  opposite,  from  a  photo- 
graph taken  above  Vevey,  shows  this  clearly. 
It  is  quite  evident  that  the  lake  must  for- 
merly have  extended  further  up  the  valley, 
and  that  it  has  been  filled  up  by  material 
brought  down  by  the  Rhone,  a  process  which 
is  still  continuing. 

At  the  other  end  of  the  lake  the  river 
rushes  out  15  feet  deep  of  "not  flowing,  but 
flying  water ;  not  water  neither  —  melted 
glacier  matter,  one  should  call  it;  the  force 
of  the  ice  is  in  it.  and  the  wreathing  of  the 
clouds,  the  gladness  of  the  sky,  and  the  coun- 
tenance of  time."  l 

In  flat  countries  the  habits  of  rivers  are 
very  different.  For  instance,  in  parts  of  Nor- 
folk there  are  many  small  lakes  or  "broads" 
in  a  network  of  rivers  —  the  Bure,  the  Yare, 
the  Ant,  the  Waveney,  etc. — which  do  not 
rush  on  with  the  haste  of  some  rivers,  or  the 
stately  flow  of  others  which  are  steadily  set 
to  reach  the  sea,  but  rather  seem  like  rivers 
wandering  in  the  meadows  on  a  holiday. 
They  have  often  no  natural  banks,  but  are 

1  Ruskin. 


*  ...  vi  . 

L  y  < 


VIJ 


WATER 


271 


bounded  by  dense  growths  of  tall  grasses, 
Bulrushes,  Reeds,  and  Sedges,  interspersed 
with  the  spires  of  the  purple  Loosestrife, 
Willow  Herb,  Hemp  Agrimony,  and  other 


Fig.  34.  — View  in  the  district  of  the  Broads,  Norfolk. 


flowers,  while  the  fields  are  very  low  and  pro- 
tected by  dykes,  so  that  the  red  cattle  appear 
to  be  browsing  below  the  level  of  the  water ; 
and  as  the  rivers  take  most  unexpected 
turns,  the  sailing  boats  often  seem  (Fig.  34) 
as  if  they  were  in  the  middle  of  the  fields. 

At  present   these  rivers  are  restrained   in 
their  courses  by  banks  ;  when  left  free  they 


272  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

are  continually  changing  their  beds.  Their 
courses  at  first  sight  seem  to  follow  no  rule, 
but,  as  it  is  termed,  from  a  celebrated  river 
of  Asia  Minor,  to  "  meander  "  along  without 
aim  or  object,  though  in  fact  they  follow 
very  definite  laws. 

Finally,  when  the  river  at  length  reaches 
the  sea,  it  in  many  cases  spreads  out  in  the 
form  of  a  fan,  forming  a  very  flat  cone  or 
"  delta,"  as  it  is  called,  from  the  Greek  capi- 
tal A,  a  name  first  applied  to  that  of  the 
Nile,  and  afterwards  extended  to  other  rivers. 
This  is  due  to  the  same  cause,  and  resembles, 
except  in  size,  the  comparatively  minute 
cones  of  mountain  streams. 

Fig.  35  represents  the  delta  of  the  Po,  and 
it  will  be  observed  that  Adria,  once  a  great 
port,  and  from  which  the  Adriatic  was  named, 
is  now  more  than  20  miles  from  the  sea. 
Perhaps  the  most  remarkable  case  is  that  of 
the  Mississippi  (Fig.  36),  the  mouths  of  which 
project  into  the  sea  like  a  hand,  or  like  the 
petals  of  a  flower..  For  miles  the  mud  is  too 
soft  to  support  trees,  but  is  covered  by  sedges 
(Miegea)  ;  the  banks  of  mud  gradually  be- 


WATER 


273 


come   too   soft   and   mobile    even   for   them. 
The  pilots  who  navigate  ships  up  the   river 


live  in  frail  houses   resting    on    planks,    and 
kept  in  place  by  anchors.     Still  further,  and 


$9?    T  T  TT  13!  "R  :  V  *n  ler 


274 


THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE 


CHAP. 


the  banks  of  the  Mississippi,  if   banks   they 
can  be  called,  are  mere  strips  of  reddish  mud, 


Fig.  36. 


intersected  from  time  to  time  by  transverse 
streams  of   water,  which   gradually  separate 


vii  WATER  275 

them  into  patches.  These  become  more  and 
more  liquid,  until  the  land,  river,  and  sea 
merge  imperceptibly  into  one  another.  The 
river  is  so  muddy  that  it  might  almost  be 
called  land,  and  the  mud  so  saturated  by 
water  that  it  might  well  be  called  sea,  so  that 
one  can  hardly  say  whether  a  given  spot  is 
on  the  continent,  in  the  river,  or  on  the  open 
ocean. 


CHAPTEE  VIII 

RIVERS   AND  LAKES 


CHAPTER  VIII 

RIVERS   AND    LAKES 
ON   THE    DIRECTIONS    OF   RIVERS 

IN  the  last  chapter  I  have  alluded  to  the 
wanderings  of  rivers  within  the  limits  of 
their  own  valleys ;  we  have  now  to  consider 
the  causes  which  have  determined  the  direc- 
tions of  the  valleys  themselves. 

If  a  tract  of  country  were  raised  up  in 
the  form  of  a  boss  or  dome,  the  rain  which 
fell  on  it  would  partly  sink  in,  partly  run 
away  to  the  lower  ground.  The  least  in- 
equality in  the  surface  would  determine  the 
first  directions  of  the  streams,  which  would 
carry  down  any  loose  material,  and  thus 
form  little  channels,  which  would  be  gradu- 
ally deepened  and  enlarged.  It  is  as  difficult 
for  a  river  as  for  a  man  to  get  out  of  a 
groove. 

279 


280  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE        CHAP,  vm 

In  such  a  case  the  rivers  would  tend  to 
radiate  with  more  or  less  regularity  from  the 
centre  or  axis  of  the  dome,  as,  for  instance, 
in  our  English  lake  district  (Fig.  37).  Der- 
went  Water,  Thirlmere,  Coniston  Water,  and 
Windermere,  run  approximately  N.  and  S. ; 
Crummock  Water,  Loweswater,  and  Butter- 
mere  N.W.  by  S.E.;  Waste  Water,  Ullswater, 
and  Hawes  Water  N.E.  by  S.W. ;  while 
Ennerdale  Water  lies  nearly  E.  by  W.  Can 
we  account  in  any  way,  and  if  so  how,  for 
these  varied  directions? 

The  mountains  of  Cumberland  and  West- 
moreland form  a  more  or  less  oval  boss,  the 
axis  of  which,  though  not  straight,  runs 
practically  from  E.N.E.  to  W.S.W.,  say  from 
Scaw  Fell  to  Shap  Fell ;  and  a  sketch  map 
shows  us  almost  at  a  glance  that  Derwent 
Water,  Thirlmere,  Ullswater,  Coniston  Water, 
and  Windermere  run  at  right  angles  to  this 
axis ;  Ennerdale  Water  is  just  where  the  boss 
ends  and  the  mountains  disappear;  while 
Crummock  Water  and  Waste  Water  lie  at 
the  intermediate  angles. 

So  much  then  for  the  direction.     We  have 


Cumberland 


Fig.  37.  —  Map  of  the  Lake  District. 


282  THE   BEAUTIES  OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

still  to  consider  the  situation  and  origin,  and 
it  appears  that  Ullswater,  Coniston  Water, 
the  River  Dudden,  Waste  Water,  and  Crum- 
mock  Water  lie  along  the  lines  of  old  faults, 
which  no  doubt  in  the  first  instance  deter- 
mined the  flow  of  the  water. 

Take  another  case.  In  the  Jura  the 
valleys  are  obviously  (see  Fig.  18)  in  many 
cases  due  to  the  folding  of  the  strata.  It 
seldom  happens,  however,  that  the  case  is 
so  simple.  If  the  elevation  is  considerable 
the  strata  are  often  fractured,  and  fissures 
are  produced.  Again  if  the  part  elevated 
contains  layers  of  more  than  one  character, 
this  at  once  establishes  differences.  Take, 
for  instance,  the  Weald  of  Kent  (Figs.  38, 
39).  Here  we  have  (omitting  minor  layers) 
four  principal  strata  concerned,  namely,  the 
Chalk,  Greensand,  Weald  Clay,  and  Hastings 
Sands. 

The  axis  of  elevation  runs  (Fig.  39)  from 
Winchester  by  Petersfield,  Horsham,  and 
Winchelsea  to  Boulogne,  and  as  shown  in 
the  following  section,  taken  from  Professor 
Ramsay,  we  have  on  each  side  of  the  axis 


vni  RIVERS  AND  LAKES  283 

two  ridges  or  "  escarpments,"  one  that  of 
the  Chalk,  the  other  that  of  the  .Greensand, 
while  between  the  Chalk  and  the  Green- 
sand  is  a  valley,  and  between  the  Green- 
sand  and  the  ridge  of  Hastings  Sand  an 
undulating  plain,  in  each  case  with  a  gen- 
tle slope  from  about  where  the  London  and 


Fig.  38.  — a,  a,  Upper  Cretaceous  strata,  chiefly  Chalk,  forming  the  North 
and  South  Downs;  6,  b,  Escarpment  of  Lower  Greensand,  with  a  valley  be- 
tween it  and  the  Chalk;  c,  c,  "Weald  Clay,  forming  plains;  d,  Hills  formed 
of  Hastings  Sand  and  Clay.  The  Chalk,  etc.,  once  spread  across  the  country, 
as  shown  in  the  dotted  lines. 

Brighton  railway  crosses  the  Weald  towards 
the  east.  Under  these  circumstances  we 
might  have  expected  that  the  streams  drain- 
ing the  Weald  would  have  run  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  axis  of  elevation,  and  at  the 
bases  of  the  escarpments,  as  in  fact  the 
Rother  does  for  part  of  its  course,  into  the 
sea  between  the  North  and  South  Downs, 
instead  of  which  as  a  rule  they  run  north 
and  south,  cutting  in  some  cases  directly 
through  the  escarpments;  on  the  north,  for 


Fig.  39.  -  Map  of  the  Weald  of  Kent. 


CHAP,  vni  RIVERS   AND   LAKES  285 

instance,  the  Wye,  the  Mole,  the  Darenth, 
the  Medway,  and  the  Stour;  and  on  the 
south  the  Arun,  the  Addur,  the  Ouse,  and 
the  Cuckmere. 

They  do  not  run  in  faults  or  cracks,  and 
it  is  clear  that  they  could  not  have  excavated 
their  present  valleys  under  circumstances 
such  as  now  exist.  They  carry  us  back  in- 
deed to  a  time  when  the  Greensand  and 
Chalk  were  continued  across  the  Weald  in  a 
great  dome,  as  shown  by  the  dotted  lines  in 
Fig.  38.  They  then  ran  down  the  slope  of 
the  dome,  and  as  the  Chalk  and  Greensand 
gradually  weathered  back,  a  process  still  in 
operation,  the  rivers  deepened  and  deepened 
their  valleys,  and  thus  were  enabled  to  keep 
their  original  course. 

Other  evidence  in  support  of  this  view 
is  afforded  by  the  presence  of  gravel  beds 
in  some  places  at  the  very  top  of  the  Chalk 
escarpment  —  beds  which  were  doubtless 
deposited  when,  what  is  now  the  summit 
of  a  hill,  was  part  of  a  continuous  slope. 

The  course  of  the  Thames  offers  us  a  some- 
what similar  instance.  It  rises  on  the  Oolites 


286  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

near  Cirencester,  and  cuts  through  the  escarp- 
ment of  the  Chalk  between  Wallingford  and 
Reading.  The  cutting  through  the  Chalk  has 
evidently  been  effected  by  the  river  itself. 
But  this  could  not  have  happened  under 
existing  conditions.  We  must  remember, 
however,  that  the  Chalk  escarpment  is  gradu- 
ally moving  eastwards.  The  Chalk  escarp- 
ments indeed  are  everywhere,  though  of 
course  only  slowly,  crumbling  away.  Be- 
tween Farnham  and  Guildford  the  Chalk  is 
reduced  to  a  narrow  ridge  known  as  the 
Hog's  Back.  In  the  same  way  no  doubt  the 
area  of  the  Chalk  formerly  extended  much 
further  west  than  it  does  at  present,  and,  in- 
deed, there  can  be  little  doubt,  somewhat 
further  west  than  the  source  of  the  Thames, 
almost  to  the  valley  of  the  Severn.  At  that 
time  the  Thames  took  its  origin  in  a  Chalk 
spring.  Gradually,  however,  the  Chalk  was 
worn  away  by  the  action  of  weather,  and 
especially  of  rain.  The  river  maintained  its 
course  while  gradually  excavating,  and  sink- 
ing deeper  and  deeper  into,  the  Chalk.  At 
present  the  river  meets  the  Chalk  escarpment 


vin  RIVERS   AND   LAKES  287 

near  Wallingford,  but  the  escarpment  itself 
is  still  gradually  retreating  eastward. 

So,  again,  the  Elbe  cuts  right  across  the 
Erz-Gebirge,  the  Rhine  through  the  moun- 
tains between  Bingen  and  Coblenz,  the  Poto- 
mac, the  Susquehannah,  and  the  Delaware 
through  the  Alleghames.  The  case  of  the 
Dranse  will  be  alluded  to  further  on  (p.  292). 
In  these  cases  the  rivers  preceded  the  moun- 
tains. Indeed  as  soon  as  the  land  rose  above 
the  waters,  rivers  would  begin  their  work, 
and  having  done  so,  unless  the  rate  of  eleva- 
tion of  the  mountain  exceeded  the  power  of 
erosion  of  the  river,  the  two  would  proceed 
simultaneously,  so  that  the  river  would  not 
alter  its  course,  but  would  cut  deeper  and 
deeper  as  the  mountain  range  gradually 
rose. 

Rivers  then  are  in  many  cases  older  than 
mountains.  Moreover,  the  mountains  are 
passive,  the  rivers  active.  Since  it  seems  to 
be  well  established  that  in  Switzerland  a 
mass,  more  than  equal  to  what  remains,  has 
been  removed ;  and  that  many  of  the  present 
mountains  are  not  sites  which  were  originally 


288  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

raised  highest,  but  those  which  have  suffered 
least,  it  follows  that  if  in  some  cases  the 
course  of  the  river  is  due  to  the  direction  of 
the  mountain  ridges,  on  the  other  hand  the 
direction  of  some  of  the  present  ridges  is  due 
to  that  of  the  rivers.  At  any  rate  it  is  cer- 
tain that  of  the  original  surface  not  a  trace 
or  a  fragment  remains  in  situ.  Many  of  our 
own  English  mountains  were  once  valleys, 
and  many  of  our  present  valleys  occupy  the 
sites  of  former  mountain  ridges. 

Heim  and  Rlitimeyer  point  out  that  of  the 
two  factors  which  have  produced  the  relief  of 
mountain  regions,  the  one,  elevation,  is  tem- 
porary and  transitory  ;  the  other,  denudation, 
is  constant,  and  gains  therefore  finally  the 
upper  hand. 

We  must  not,  however,  expect  too  great 
regularity.  The  degree  of  hardness,  the 
texture,  and  the  composition  of  the  rocks 
cause  great  differences. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  the  alteration  of 
level  was  too  rapid,  the  result  might  be 
greatly  to  alter  the  river  courses.  Mr. 
Darwin  mentions  such  a  case,  which,  more- 


viii  RIVERS   AND   LAKES  289 

over,  is  perhaps  the  more  interesting  as  being 
evidently  very  recent. 

"  Mr.  Gill,"  he  says,  •"  mentioned  to  me  a 
most  interesting,  and  as  far  as  I  am  aware, 
quite  unparalleled  case,  of  a  subterranean  dis- 
turbance having  changed  the  drainage  of  a 
country.  Travelling  from  Casma  to  Huaraz 
(not  very  far  distant  from  Lima)  he  found  a 
plain  covered  with  ruins  and  marks  of  ancient 
cultivation,  but  now  quite  barren.  Near  it 
was  the  dry  course  of  a  considerable  river, 
whence  the  water  for  irrigation  had  formerly 
been  conducted.  There  was  nothing  in  the 
appearance  of  the  water-course  to  indicate 
that  the  river  had  not  flowed  there  a  few 
years  previously;  in  some  parts  beds  of  sand 
and  gravel  were  spread  out ;  in  others,  the 
solid  rock  had  been  worn  into  a  broad  chan- 
nel, which  in  one  spot  was  about  40  yards  in 
breadth  and  8  feet  deep.  It  is  self-evident 
that  a  person  following  up  the  course  of  a 
stream  will  always  ascend  at  a  greater  or  less 
inclination.  Mr.  Gill  therefore,  was  much 
astonished  when  walking  up  the  bed  of  this 
ancient  river,  to  find  himself  suddenly  going 


290  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

downhill.  He  imagined  that  the  downward 
slope  had  a  fall  of  about  40  or  50  feet  per- 
pendicular. We  here  have  unequivocal  evi- 
dence that  a  ridge  had  been  uplifted  right 
across  the  old  bed  of  a  stream.  From  the 
moment  the  river  course  was  thus  arched, 
the  water  must  necessarily  have  been  thrown 
back,  and  a  new  channel  formed.  From  that 
moment  also  the  neighbouring  plain  must 
have  lost  its  fertilising  stream,  and  become 
a  desert."  * 

The  strata,  moreover,  often  —  indeed  gener- 
ally, as  we  have  seen,  for  instance,  in  the  case 
of  Switzerland — bear  evidence  of  most  vio- 
lent contortions,  and  even  where  the  convul- 
sions were  less  extreme,  the  valleys  thus 
resulting  are  sometimes  complicated  by  the 
existence  of  older  valleys  formed  under  pre- 
vious conditions. 

In  the  Alps  then  the  present  configuration 
of  the  surface  is  mainly  the  result  of  denuda- 
tion. If  we  look  at  a  map  of  Switzerland 
we  can  trace  but  little  relation  between  the 
river  courses  and  the  mountain  chains. 

1  Darwin's  Voyage  of  a  Naturalist. 


I  RIVERS   AND   LAKES  291 

The  rivers,  as  a  rule  (Fig.  40),  run  either 


S.E.  by  N.W.,  or,  at  right  angles  to  this,  N.E. 
and   S.W,      The   Alps   themselves   follow    a 


292  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

somewhat  curved  line  from  the  Maritime  Alps, 
commencing  with  the  islands  of  Hyeres,  by 
Briancon,  Martigny,  the  Valais,  Urseren  Thai, 
Vorder  Rhein,  Innsbruck,  Radstadt,  and 
Rottenmann  to  the  Danube,  a  little  below 
Vienna,  —  at  first  nearly  north  and  south,  but 
gradually  curving  round  until  it  becomes 
S.W.  by  N.E. 

The  central  mountains  are  mainly  composed 
of  Gneiss,  Granite,  and  crystalline  Schists : 
the  line  of  junction  between  these  rocks  and 
the  secondary  and  tertiary  strata  on  the  north, 
runs,  speaking  roughly,  from  Hyeres  to  Gre- 
noble, and  then  by  Albertville,  Sion,  Chur,  Inns, 
bruck,  Radstadt,  and  Hieflau,  towards  Vienna. 
It  is  followed  (in  some  part  of  their  course) 
by  the  Isere,  the  Rhone,  the  Rhine,  the  Inn, 
and  the  Enns.  One  of  the  great  folds  shortly 
described  in  the  preceding  chapter  runs  up 
the  Isere,  along  the  Chamouni  Valley,  up  the 
Rhone,  through  the  Urseren  Thai,  down  the 
Rhine  Valley  to  Chur,  along  the  Inn  nearly  to 
Kuf stein,  and  for  some  distance  along  the 
Enns.  Thus,  then,  five  great  rivers  have 
taken  advantage  of  this  main  fold,  each  of 


vin  RIVERS  AND   LAKES  293 

them    eventually   breaking    through    into    a 
transverse  valley. 

The  Pusterthal  in  the  Tyrol  offers  us  an 
interesting  case  of  what  is  obviously  a  single 
valley,  which  has,  however,  been  slightly 
raised  in  the  centre,  near  Toblach,  so  that 
from  this  point  the  water  flows  in  opposite 
directions  —  the  Drau  eastward,  and  the  Rienz 
westward.  In  this  case  the  elevation  is 
single  and  slight :  in  the  main  valley  there 
are  several,  and  they  are  much  loftier, 
still  we  may,  I  think,  regard  that  of 
the  Isere  from  Chambery  to  Albertville, 
of  the  Rhone  from  Martigny  to  its  source, 
of  the  Urseren  Thai,  of  the  Vorder  Rhine 
from  its  source  to  Chur,  of  the  Inn  from 
Landeck  to  below  Innsbruck,  even  perhaps 
of  the  Enns  from  Radstadt  to  Hieflau  as 
in  one  sense  a  single  valley,  due  to  one  of 
these  longitudinal  folds,  but  interrupted  by 
bosses  of  gneiss  and  granite,  —  one  culminat- 
ing in  Mont  Blanc,  and  another  in  the  St. 
Gotthard,  —  which  have  separated  the  waters 
of  the  Isere,  the  Rhone,  the  Vorder  Rhine, 
the  Inn,  and  the  Enns.  That  the  valley  of 


294  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

Chamouni,  the  Yalais,  the  Urseren  Thai, 
and  that  of  the  Yorder  Khine  really  form 
part  of  one  great  fold  is  further  shown  by 
the  presence  of  a  belt  of  Jurassic  strata 
nipped  in,  as  it  were,  between  the  crystalline 
rocks. 

This  seems  to  throw  light  on  the  remark- 
able turns  taken  by  the  Rhone  at  Martigny 
and  the  Vorder  Rhine  at  Chur,  where  they 
respectively  quit  the  great  longitudinal  fold, 
and  fall  into  secondary  transverse  valleys. 
The  Rhone  for  the  upper  part  of  its  course,  as 
far  as  Martigny,  runs  in  the  great  longitudi- 
nal fold  of  the  Yalais  ;  at  Martigny  it  falls 
into  and  adopts  the  transverse  valley,  which 
properly  belongs  to  the  Dranse ;  for  the 
Dranse  is  probably  an  older  river  and  ran  in 
the  present  course  even  before  the  great  fold 
of  the  Yalais.  This  would  seem  to  indicate 
that  the  Oberland  range  is  not  so  old  as  the 
Pennine,  and  that  its  elevation  was  so 
gradual  that  the  Dranse  was  able  to  wear 
away  a  passage  as  the  ridge  gradually  rose. 
After  leaving  the  Lake  of  Geneva  the  Rhone 
follows  a  course  curving  gradually  to  the 


vni  RIVERS  AND  LAKES  295 

south,  until  it  reaches  St.  Genix,  where  it  falls 
into  and  adopts  a  transverse  valley  which 
properly  belongs  to  the  little  river  Guiers ;  it 
subsequently  joins  the  Ain  and  finally  falls 
into  the  Saone.  If  these  valleys  were  attrib- 
uted to  their  older  occupiers  we  should  there- 
fore confine  the  name  of  the  Rhone  to  the 
portion  of  its  course  from  the  Rhone  glacier  to 
Martigny.  From  Martigny  it  occupies  succes- 
sively the  valleys  of  the  Dranse,  Guiers,  Ain, 
and  Saone.  In  fact,  the  Saone  receives  the 
Ain,  the  Ain  the  Guiers,  the  Guiers  the 
Dranse,  and  the  Dranse  the  Rhone.  This  is 
not  a  mere  question  of  names,  but  also  one  of 
antiquity.  The  Saone,  for  instance,  flowed 
past  Lyons  to  the  Mediterranean  for  ages 
before  it  was  joined  by  the  Rhone.  In  our 
nomenclature,  however,  the  Rhone  has  swal- 
lowed up  the  others.  This  is  the  more  curious 
because  of  the  three  great  rivers  which  unite 
to  form  the  lower  Rhone,  namely,  the  Saone, 
the  Doubs,  and  the  Rhone  itself,  the  Sacme 
brings  for  a  large  part  of  the  year  the 
greatest  volume  of  water,  and  the  Doubs 
has  the  longest  course.  Other  similar  cases 


296 


THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE 


CHAP. 


might  be  mentioned.     The  Aar,  for  instance, 
is  a  somewhat  larger  river  than  the  Rhine. 


But  why  should  the  rivers,  after  running 


vni  RIVERS   AND   LAKES  297 

for  a  certain  distance  in  the  direction  of  the 
main  axis,  so  often  break  away  into  lateral 
valleys  ?  If  the  elevation  of  a  chain  of  moun- 
tains be  due  to  the  causes  suggested  in  p.  214, 
it  is  evident,  though,  so  far  as  I  am  aware, 
stress  has  not  hitherto  been  laid  upon  this, 
that  the  compression  and  consequent  folding 
of  the  strata  (Fig.  41)  would  not  be  in  the 
direction  A  B  only,  but  also  at  right  angles  to 
it,  in  the  direction  A  (7,  though  the  amount  of 
folding  might  be  much  greater  in  one  direc- 
tion than  in  the  other.  Thus  in  the  case  of 
Switzerland,  while  the  main  folds  run  south- 
west by  north-east,  there  would  be  others  at 
right  angles  to  the  main  axis.  The  complex 
structure  of  the  Swiss  mountains  may  be 
partly  due  to  the  coexistence  of  these  two 
directions  of  pressure  at  right  angles  to  one 
another.  The  presence  of  a  fold  so  originating 
would  often  divert  the  river  to  a  course  more 
or  less  nearly  at  right  angles  to  its  original 
direction. 

Switzerland,  moreover,  slopes  northwards 
from  the  Alps,  so  that  the  lowest  part  of  the 
great  Swiss  plain  is  that  along  the  foot  of 


298  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

the  Jura.  Hence  the  main  drainage  rims 
along  the  line  from  Yverdun  to  Neuchatel, 
down  the  Zihl  to  Soleure,  and  then  along  the 
Aar  to  Waldshut :  the  Upper  Aar,  the-Emmen, 
the  Wiggern,  the  Suhr,  the  Wynen,  the  lower 
Reuss,  the  Sihl,  and  the  Limmat,  besides 
several  smaller  streams,  running  approxi- 
mately parallel  to  one  another  north-north- 
east, and  at  angles  to  the  main  axis  of 
elevation,  and  all  joining  the  Aar  from  the 
south,  while  on  the  north  it  does  not  receive 
a  single  contributary  of  any  importance. 

On  the  south  side  of  the  Alps  again  wre 
have  the  Dora  Baltea,  the  Sesia,  the  Ticino, 
the  Olonna,  the  Adda,  the  Adige,  etc.,  all 
running  south-south-east  from  the  axis  of 
elevation  to  the  Po. 

Indeed,  the  general  slope  of  Switzerland, 
being  from  the  ridge  of  the  Alps  towards  the 
north,  it  will  be  observed  (Fig.  42)  that  almost 
all  the  large  affluents  of  these  rivers  running 
in  longitudinal  valleys  fall  in  on  the  south,  as, 
for  instance,  those  of  the  Isere  from  Albertville 
to  Grenoble,  of  the  Rhone  from  its  source  to 
Martigny,  of  the  Yorder  Rhine  from  its  source 


vnt  RIVERS   AND  LAKES  299 

to  Chur,  of  the  Inn  from  Landeck  to  Kufstein, 


of  the  Enns  from  its  source  to  near  Admont, 


300  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

of  the  Danube  from  its  source  to  Vienna,  and 
as  just  mentioned,  of  the  Aar  from  Bern  to 
Waldshut.  Hence  also,  whenever  the  Swiss 
rivers  running  east  and  west  break  into  a 
transverse  valley,  as  the  larger  ones  all  do, 
and  some  more  than  once,  they  invariably, 
whether  originally  running  east  or  westwards, 
turn  towards  the  north. 

But  although  we  thus  get  a  clue  to 
the  general  structure  of  Switzerland,  the 
whole  question  is  extremely  complex,  and 
the  strata  have  been  crumpled  and  folded 
in  the  most  complicated  manner,  sometimes 
completely  reversed,  so  that  older  rocks  have 
been  folded  back  on  younger  strata,  and  even 
in  some  cases  these  folds  again  refolded. 
Moreover,  the  denudation  by  aerial  action,  by 
glaciers,  frosts,  and  rivers  has  removed  hun- 
dreds, or  rather  thousands,  of  feet  of  strata. 
In  fact,  the  mountain  tops  are  not  by  any 
means  the  spots  which  have  been  most 
elevated,  but  those  which  have  been  least 
denuded ;  and  hence  it  is  that  so  many  of  the 
peaks  stand  at  about  the  same  altitude. 


RIVERS  AND  LAKES  301 


THE    CONFLICTS    AND    ADVENTURES    OF    RIVERS 

Our  ancestors  looked  upon  rivers  as  being  in 
some  sense  alive,  and  in  fact  in  their  "  struggle 
for  existence"  they  not  only  labour  to  adapt 
their  channel  to  their  own  requirements,  but 
in  many  cases  enter  into  conflict  with  one 
another. 

In  the  plain  of  Bengal,  for  instance,  there 
are  three  great  rivers,  the  Brahmapootra 
corning  from  the  north,  the  Ganges  from  the 
west,  and  the  Megna  from  the  east,  each  of 
them  with  a  number  of  tributary  streams. 
Mr.  Fergusson1  has  given  us  a  most  interest- 
ing and  entertaining  account  of  the  struggles 
between  these  great  rivers  to  occupy  the 
fertile  plain  of  Bengal. 

The  Megna,  though  much  inferior  in  size  to 
the  Brahmapootra,  has  one  great  advantage. 
It  depends  mainly  on  the  monsoon  rains  for 
its  supply,  while  the  Brahmapootra  not  only 
has  a  longer  course  to  run,  but  relies  for  its 
floods,  to  a  great  extent,  on  the  melting  of  the 

lGeol.  Jour.,  1863. 


302  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

snow,  so  that,  arriving  later  at  the  scene  of 
the  struggle,  it  finds  the  country  already 
occupied  by  the  Megna  to  such  an  extent  that 
it  has  been  driven  nearly  70  miles  northwards, 
and  forced  to  find  a  new  channel. 

Under  these  circumstances  it  has  attacked 
the  territory  of  the  Ganges,  and  being  in 
flood  earlier  than  that  river,  though  later 
than  the  Megna,  it  has  in  its  turn  a  great 
advantage. 

Whatever  the  ultimate  result  may  be  the 
struggle  continues  vigorously.  At  Sooksaghur, 
says  Fergusson,  "  there  was  a  noble  country 
house,  built  by  Warren  Hastings,  about  a  mile 
from  the  banks  of  the  Hoogly.  When  I  first 
knew  it  in  1830  half  the  avenue  of  noble  trees, 
which  led  from  the  river  to  the  house,  was 
gone ;  when  I  last  saw  it,  some  eight  years 
afterwards,  the  river  was  close  at  hand.  Since 
then  house,  stables,  garden,  and  village  are  all 
gone,  and  the  river  was  on  the  point  of  break- 
ing through  the  narrow  neck  of  high  land 
that  remained,  and  pouring  itself  into  some 
weak-banded  nullahs  in  the  lowlands  beyond : 
and  if  it  had  succeeded,  the  Hoogly  would 


vin  RIVERS   AND   LAKES  303 

have  deserted  Calcutta.  At  this  juncture  the 
Eastern  Bengal  Railway  Company  intervened. 
They  were  carrying  their  works  along  the 
ridge,  and  they  have,  for  the  moment  at  least, 
stopped  the  oscillation  in  this  direction." 

This  has  affected  many  of  the  other  tribu- 
taries of  the  Ganges,  so  that  the  survey  made 
by  Rennell  in  1780-90  is  no  longer  any  evi- 
dence as  to  the  present  course  of  the  rivers. 
They  may  now  be  anywhere  else ;  in  some 
cases  all  we  can  say  is  that  they  are  certainly 
not  now  where  they  were  then. 

The  association  of  the  three  great  European 
rivers,  the  Rhine,  the  Rhone,  and  the  Danube, 
with  the  past  history  of  our  race,  invests  them 
with  a  singular  fascination,  and  their  past  his- 
tory is  one  of  much  interest.  They  all  three 
rise  in  the  group  of  mountains  between  the 
Galenstock  and  the  Bernardino,  within  a  space 
of  a  few  miles ;  on  the  east  the  waters  run  into 
the  Black  Sea,  on  the  north  into  the  German 
Ocean,  and  on  the  west  into  the  Mediterranean. 
But  it  has  not  always  been  so.  Their  head- 
waters have  been  at  one  time  interwoven 
together. 


304  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

At  present  the  waters  of  the  Valais  escape 
from  the  Lake  of  Geneva  at  the  western  end, 
and  through  the  remarkable  defile  of  Fort  de 
1'Ecluse  and  Malpertius,  which  has  a  depth  of 
600  feet,  arid  is  at  one  place  not  more  than 
14  feet  across.  Moreover,  at  various  points 
round  the  Lake  of  Geneva,  remains  of  lake 
terraces  show  that  the  water  once  stood  at  a 
level  much  higher  than  the  present.  One 
of  these  is  rather  more  than  250  feet l  above 
the  lake. 

A  glance  at  the  map  will  show  that  be- 
tween Lausanne  and  Yverdun  there  is  a  low 
tract  of  land,  and  the  Venoge,  which  falls 
into  the  Lake  of  Geneva  between  Lausanne 
and  Morges,  runs  within  about  half  a  mile  of 
the  Nozon,  which  falls  into  the  Lake  of  Neu- 
chatel  at  Yverdun,  the  two  being  connected 
by  the  Canal  d'Entreroches,  and  the  height 
of  the  watershed  being  only  76  metres  (250 
feet),  corresponding  with  the  above  mentioned 
lake  terrace.  It  is  evident,  therefore,  that 
when  the  Lake  of  Geneva  stood  at  the  level  of 
the  250  feet  terrace  the  waters  ran  out,  not  as 

1  Favre,  Bech.  Geol.  de  la  Savoie. 


viii  RIVERS   AND   LAKES  305 

now  at  Geneva  and  by  Lyons  to  the  Mediter- 
ranean, but  near  Lausanne  by  Cissonay  and 
Entreroches  to  Yverdun,  and  through  the 
Lake  of  Neuchatel  into  the  Aar  and  the  Rhine. 

But  this  is  not  the  whole  of  the  curious 
history.  At  present  the  Aar  makes  a  sharp 
turn  to  the  west  at  Waldshut,  where  it  falls 
into  the  Rhine,  but  there  is  reason  to  believe 
that  at  a  former  period,  before  the  Rhine  had 
excavated  its  present  bed,  the  Aar  continued 
its  course  eastward  to  the  Lake  of  Constance, 
by  the  valley  of  the  Klettgau,  as  is  indicated  by 
the  presence  of  gravel  beds  containing  pebbles 
which  have  been  brought,  not  by  the  Rhine 
from  the  Grisons,  but  by  the  Aar  from  the 
Bernese  Oberland,  showing  that  the  river 
which  occupied  the  valley  was  not  the  Rhine 
but  the  Aar.  It  would  seem  also  that  at  an 
early  period  the  Lake  of  Constance  stood  at  a 
considerably  higher  level,  and  that  the  outlet 
was,  perhaps,  from  Frederichshaven  to  Ulm, 
along  what  are  now  the  valleys  of  the 
Schussen  and  the  Ried,  into  the  Danube. 

Thus  the  head-waters  of  the  Rhone  appear 
to  have  originally  run  by  Lausanne  and  the 


306  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

Lake  of  Constance  into  the  Danube,  and  so  to 
the  Black  Sea.  Then,  after  the  present  valley 
was  opened  between  Waldshut  and  Basle, 
they  flowed  by  Basle  and  the  present  Rhine, 
and  after  joining  the  Thames,  over  the  plain 
which  now  forms  the  German  Sea  into  the 
Arctic  Ocean  between  Scotland  and  Norway. 
Finally,  after  the  opening  of  the  passage  at 
Fort  de  1'Ecluse,  by  Geneva,  Lyons,  and  the 
Valley  of  the  Saone,  to  the  Mediterranean. 

It  must  not,  however,  be  supposed  that 
these  changes  in  river  courses  are  confined  to 
the  lower  districts.  Mountain  streams  have 
also  their  adventures  and  vicissitudes,  their 
wars  and  invasions.  Take  for  instance  the 
Upper  Rhine,  of  which  we  have  a  very  inter- 
esting account  by  Heim.  It  is  formed  of 
three  main  branches,  the  Vorder  Rhine,  Hinter 
Rhine,  and  the  Albula.  The  two  latter,  after 
meeting  near  Thusis,  unite  with  the  Vorder 
Rhine  at  Reichenau,  and  run  by  Chur,  May- 
enfeld,  and  Sargans  into  the  Lake  of  Con- 
stance at  Rheineck.  At  some  former  period, 
however,  the  drainage  of  this  district  was 
very  different,  as  is  shown  in  Fig.  43, 


vni  RIVEES   AND  LAKES  307 

The  Vorder  and  Hinter  Rhine  united  then 
(Fig.  43)  as  they  do  now  at  Reichenau,  but  at 
a  much  higher  level,  and  ran  to  Mayenfeld, 
not  by  Chur,  but  by  the  Kunckel  Pass  to  Sar- 
gans,  and  so  on,  not  to  the  Lake  of  Constance, 
but  to  that  of  Zurich.  The  Landwasser  at 
that  time  rose  in  the  Schlappina  Joch,  and 
after  receiving  as  tributaries  the  Vereina  and 
the  Sardasca,  joined  the  Albula,  as  it  does  now 
at  Tiefenkasten ;  but  instead  of  going  round 
to  meet  the  Hinter  Rhine  near  Thusis,  the 
two  together  travelled  parallel  with,  but  at 
some  distance  from,  the  Hinter  Rhine,  by 
Heide  to  Chur,  and  so  to  Mayenfeld. 

In  the  meanwhile,  however,  the  Land- 
quart  was  stealthily  creeping  up  the  valley, 
attacked  the  ridge  which  then  united  the 
Casanna  and  the  Madrishorn,  and  gradually 
forcing  the  passage,  invaded  (Fig.  44)  the 
valleys  of  the  Schlappina,  Yereina,  and  Sar- 
dasca, absorbed  them  as  tributaries,  and, 
detaching  them  from  their  allegiance  to  the 
Landwasser,  annexed  the  whole  of  the  upper 
province  which  had  formerly  belonged  to  that 
river. 


308 


THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATUKE 


CHAP. 


The  Schyn  also  gradually  worked  its  way 
upwards  from  Thusis  till  it  succeeded  in 
sapping  the  Albula,  and  carried  it  down  the 


L.afWaRenstadt?    V 


SargoMS 

Ma/enfeUL 


QUIT 


Fig.  43.  —  River  system  round  Chur,  as  it  used  to  be. 

valley  to  join  the  Yorder  Rhine  near  Thusis. 
In  what  is  now  the  main  valley  of  the  Rhine 
above  Chur  another  stream  ate  its  way 
back,  and  eventually  tapped  the  main  river 


VIII 


RIVERS  AND   LAKES 


309 


at   Reichenau,   thus    diverting   it    from    the 
Kunckel,  and  carrying  it  round  by  Chur. 
At    Sargans    a   somewhat    similar   process 


Tayenfelci 

fe, 


>Chur 


ichencn/, 


Seide 


& 


^ 

Fig.  44.  —  River  system  round  Chur,  as  it  is. 

was  repeated,  with  the  addition  that  the 
material  brought  down  by  the  Weisstannen, 
or  perhaps  a  rockfall,  deflected  the  Rhine, 
just  as  we  see  in  Fig.  30  that  the  Rhone 


310  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

was  pushed  on  one  side  by  the  Borgne.  The 
Rhone,  however,  had  no  choice,  it  was  obliged 
to  force,  and  has  forced  its  way  over  the  cone 
deposited  by  the  Borgne.  The  Rhine,  on  the 
contrary,  had  the  option  of  running  down  by 
Vaduz  to  Rheinach,  and  has  adopted  this 
course.  The  watershed  between  it  and  the 
Weisstannen  is,  however,  only  about  20  feet 
in  height,  and  the  people  of  Zurich  watch  it 
carefully,  lest  any  slight  change  should  enable 
the  river  to  return  to  its  old  bed.  The  result 
of  all  these  changes  is  that  the  rivers  have 
changed  their  courses  from  those  shown  in  Fig. 
43  to  their  present  beds  as  shown  in  Fig.  44. 

Another  interesting  case  is  that  of  the 
Upper  Engadine  (Fig.  45),  to  which  attention 
has  been  called  by  Bonney  and  Heim.  The  fall 
of  the  Yal  Bregaglia  is  much  steeper  than  that 
of  the  Inn,  and  the  Maira  has  carried  off  the 
head-waters  of  that  river  away  into  Italy. 
The  Col  was  formerly  perhaps  as  far  south  as 
Stampa :  the  Albegna,  the  Upper  Maira,  and 
the  stream  from  the  Forgno  Glacier,  originally 
belonged  to  the  Inn,  but  have  been  captured 
by  the  Lower  Maira.  Their  direction  still 


YIII 


RIVERS   AND   LAKES 


311 


indicates  this ;  they  seem  as  if  they  regretted 
the  unwelcome  change,  and  yearned  to  rejoin 
their  old  companions. 

Moreover,  as  rivers  are 
continually  cutting  back 
their  valleys  they  must  of 
course  sometimes  meet. 
In  these  cases  when  the 
valleys  are  at  different 
levels  the  lower  rivers 
have  drained  the  upper 
ones,  and  left  dry,  deserted 
valleys.  In  other  cases, 
especially  in  natter  dis- 
tricts, we  have  bifurca- 
tions, as,  for  instance,  at 
Sargans,  and  several  of 
the  Italian  lakes.  Every 
one  must  have  been  struck 
by  the  peculiar  bifurcation 
of  the  Lakes  of  Como  and 
Lugano,  while  a  very  slight 
depression  would  connect  Fig.46.-RiTer  .ystem  of  the 
the  Lake  Varese  with  the  Maloya' 

Maggiore,  and  give  it  also  a  double  southern  end. 


312        THE  BEAUTIES  OF  NATURE 


ON  LAKES 

The  problem  of  the  origin  of  Lakes  is  by 
no  means  identical  with  that  of  Valleys. 
The  latter  are  due,  primarily  as  a  rule  to 
geological  causes,  but  so  far  as  their  present 
condition  is  concerned,  mainly  to  the  action 
of  rain  and  rivers.  Flowing  water,  however, 
cannot  give  rise  to  lakes. 

It  is  of  course  possible  to  have  valleys  with- 
out lakes,  and  in  fact  the  latter  are,  now  at 
least,  exceptional.  There  can  be  no  lakes  if 
the  slope  of  the  valley  is  uniform.  To  what 
then  are  lakes  due  ? 

Professor  Ramsay  divides  Lakes  into  three 
classes :  — 

1.  Those  due  to  irregular  accumulations  of 
drift,  and  which  are  generally  quite  shallow. 

2.  Those  formed  by  moraines. 

3.  Those  which  occupy  true  basins  scooped 
by  glacier  ice  out  of  the  solid  rock. 

To  these  must,  however,  I  think  be  added 
at  least  one  other  great  class  and  several 
minor  ones,  namely, — 


VTII  RIVERS  AND  LAKES  313 

4.  Those  due  to  inequalities  of  elevation 
or  depression. 

5.  Lakes  in   craters  of  extinct  volcanoes, 
for  instance,  Lake  Avernus. 

6.  Those  caused  by  subsidence  due  to  the 
removal  of  underlying  soluble  rocks,'  such  as 
some  of  the  Cheshire  Meres. 

7.  Loop  lakes  in  deserted  river  courses,  of 
which  there  are  many  along  the  course  of  the 
Rhine. 

8.  Those  due  to  rockfalls,  landslips,  or  lava 
currents,  damming  up  the  course  of  a  river. 

9.  Those  caused  by  the  advance  of  a  gla- 
cier across  a  lateral  valley,  such  as  the  Mer- 
gelen  See,  or  the  ancient  lake  whose  margins 
form  the  celebrated  "  Parallel  Roads  of  Glen 
Roy." 

As  regards  the  first  class  we  find  here  and 
there  on  the  earth's  surface  districts  sprinkled 
with  innumerable  shallow  lakes  of  all  sizes, 
down  to  mere  pools.  Such,  for  instance,  occur 
in  the  district  of  Le  Doubs  between  the 
Rhone  and  the  Saone,  that  of  La  Sologne 
near  Orleans,  in  parts  of  North  America,  and 
in  Finland.  Such  lakes  are,  as  a  rule,  quite 


314  THE  BEAUTIES  OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

shallow.  Some  geologists,  Geikie,  for  in- 
stance, ascribe  them  to  the  fact  of  these 
regions  having  been  covered  by  sheets  of 
ice  which  strewed  the  land  with  irregular 
masses  of  clay,  gravel,  and  sand,  lying  on  a 
stratum  impervious  to  water,  either  of  hard 
rock  such  as  granite  or  gneiss,  or  of  clay,  so 
that  the  rain  cannot  percolate  through  it,  and 
without  sufficient  inclination  to  throw  it  off. 

2.  To   Ramsay's    second    class    of    Lakes 
belong    those    formed     by    moraines.      The 
materials  forming  moraines  being,  however, 
comparatively  loose,  are    easily  cut   through 
by  streams.     There  are  in  Switzerland  many 
cases  of  valleys  crossed  by  old  moraines,  but 
they   have    generally   been    long    ago    worn 
through  by  the  rivers. 

3.  Ramsay  and  Tyndall  attribute  most  of 
the  great  Swiss  and  Italian  lakes  to  the  action 
of  glaciers,  and  regard  them  as  rock  basins. 
It  is    of  course   obvious    that    rivers    cannot 
make    basin-shaped    hollows    surrounded    by 
rock    on   all    sides.     The    Lake    of    Geneva, 
1230  feet   above  the  sea,  is  over   1000  feet 
deep ;  the  Lake  of  Brienz  is  1850  feet  above 


vin  RIVERS  AND  LAKES  315 

the  sea,  and  2000  feet  deep,  so  that  its 
bottom  is  really  below  the  sea  level.  The 
Italian  Lakes  are  even  more  remarkable. 
The  Lake  of  Como,  700  feet  above  the  sea, 
is  1929  feet  deep.  Lago  Maggiore,  685  feet 
above  the  sea,  is  no  less  than  2625  feet 
deep. 

If  the  mind  is  at  first  staggered  at  the 
magnitude  of  the  scale,  we  must  remember 
that  the  ice  which  is  supposed  to  have  scooped 
out  the  valley  in  which  the  Lake  of  Geneva 
now  reposes,  was  once  at  least  4000  feet 
thick ;  while  the  moraines  were  also  of 
gigantic  magnitude,  that  of  Ivrea,  for  in- 
stance, being  no  less  than  1500  feet  above 
the  river,  and  several  miles  long. 

Indeed  it  is  obvious  that  a  glacier  many 
hundred,  or  in  some  cases  several  thousand, 
feet  in  thickness,  must  exercise  great  pressure 
on  the  bed  over  which  it  travels.  We  see 
this  from  the  striae  and  grooves  on  the  solid 
rocks,  and  the  fine  mud  which  is  carried  down 
by  glacial  streams.  The  deposit  of  glacial 
rivers,  the  "loess"  of  the  Rhine  itself,  is 
mainly  the  result  of  this  ice-waste,  and  that  is 


316  THE   BEAUTIES  OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

why  it  is  so  fine,  so  impalpable.  That  glaciers 
do  deepen  their  beds  seems  therefore  unques- 
tionable. 

Moreover,  though  the  depth  of  some  of 
these  lakes  is  great,  the  true  slope  is  very 
slight. 

Tyndall  and  Ramsay  do  not  deny  that  the 
original  direction  of  valleys,  and  consequently 
of  lakes,  is  due  to  cosmical  causes  and  geo- 
logical structure,  while  even  those  who  have 
most  strenuously  opposed  the  theory  which 
attributes  lakes  to  glacial  erosion  do  not 
altogether  deny  the  action  of  glaciers.  Favre 
himself  admits  that  "  it  is  impossible  to  deny 
that  valleys,  after  their  formation,  have  been 
swept  out  and  perhaps  enlarged  by  rivers  and 
glaciers." 

Even  Ruskin  admits  "that  a  glacier  may 
be  considered  as  a  vast  instrument  of  friction, 
a  white  sand-paper  applied  slowly  but  irresist- 
ibly to  all  the  roughness  of  the  hill  which  it 
covers." 

It  is  obvious  that  sand-paper  applied 
"  irresistibly "  and  long  enough,  must 
gradually  wear  away  and  lower  the  surface. 


vm  RIVERS  AND  LAKES  317 

I  cannot  therefore  resist  the  conclusion  that 
glaciers  have  taken  an  important  part  in  the 
formation  of  lakes. 

The  question  has  sometimes  been  discussed 
as  if  the  point  at  issue  were  whether  rivers  or 
glaciers  were  the  most  effective  as  excavators. 
But  this  is  not  so.  Those  who  believe  that 
lakes  are  in  many  cases  due  to  glaciers  might 
yet  admit  that  rivers  have  greater  power  of 
erosion.  There  is,  however,  an  essential  dif- 
ference in  the  mode  of  action.  Rivers  tend 
to  regularise  their  beds  ;  they  drain,  rather 
than  form  lakes.  Their  tendency  is  to  cut 
through  any  projections  so  that  finally  their 
course  assumes  some  such  curve  as  that 
below,  from  the  source  (a)  to  its  entrance  into 
the  sea  &. 


Fig.  46.  —  Final  Slope  of  a  River. 

Glaciers,  however,  have  in  addition  a  scoop- 
ing power,  so  that  if  similarly  a  d  1}  in  Fig. 
47  represent  the  course  of  a  glacier,  starting 
at  a  and  gradually  thinning  out  to  e,  it  may 


318  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

scoop  out  the  rock  to  a  certain  extent  at  d\ 
in  that  case  if  it  subsequently  retires  say  to 
c,  there  would  be  a  lake  lying  in  the  basin 
thus  formed  between  c  and  e. 


Fig.  47. 

On  the  other  hand  I  am  not  disposed  to 
attribute  the  Swiss  lakes  altogether  to  the 
action  of  glaciers.  In  the  first  place  it  does 
not  seem  clear  that  they  occupy  true  rock 
basins.  On  this  point  more  evidence  is  re- 
quired. That  some  lakes  are  due  to  unequal 
changes  of  level  will  hardly  be  denied.  No 
one,  for  instance,  as  Bonney  justly  observes,1 
would  attribute  the  Dead  Sea  to  glacial  ero- 
sion. 

The  Alps,  as  we  have  seen,  are  a  succession 
of  great  folds,  and  there  is  reason  to  regard 
the  central  one  as  the  oldest.  If  then  the 
same  process  continued,  and  the  outer  fold 
was  still  further  raised,  or  a  new  one  formed, 
more  quickly  than  the  rivers  could  cut  it 

1  Growth  and  Structure  of  the  Alps. 


viii  RIVERS   AND   LAKES  319 

back,  they  would  be  dammed  up,  and  lakes 
would  result. 

Moreover,  if  the  formation  of  a  mountain 
region  be  due  to  subsidence,  and  consequent 
crumpling,  as  indicated  on  p.  217,  so  that  the 
strata  which  originally  occupied  the  area  A  B 
C  D  are  compressed  into  A'  B'  C'  D',  it  is 
evident,  as  already  mentioned,  that  while  the 
line  of  least  resistance,  and,  consequently,  the 
principal  folds  might  be  in  the  direction  A'  B', 
there  must  also  be  a  tendency  to  the  forma- 
tion of  similar  folds  at  right  angles,  or  in  the 
direction  A'  C'.  Thus,  in  the  case  of  Switzer- 
land, while  the  main  folds  run  south-west  by 
north-east  there  would  also  be  others  at  right 
angles,  though  the  amount  of  folding  might  be 
much  greater  in  the  one  direction  than  in  the 
other.  To  this  cause  the  bosses,  for  instance 

—  at  Martigny,  the  Furca,  and  the  Ober  Alp, 

—  which  intersect  the  great  longitudinal  val- 
ley of  Switzerland,  are  perhaps  due. 

The  great  American  lakes  also  are  probably 
due  to  differences  of  elevation.  Kound  Lake 
Ontario,  for  instance,  there  is  a  raised  beach 
which  at  the  western  end  of  the  lake  is  363 


320  THE   BEAUTIES    OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

feet  above  the  sea  level,  but  rises  towards  the 
Eastxand  North  until  near  Fine  it  reaches  an 
elevation  of  972  feet.  As  this  terrace  must 
have  been  originally  horizontal  we  have  here 
a  lake  barrier,  due  to  a  difference  of  elevation, 
amounting  to  over  600  feet. 

In  the  same  way  we  get  a  clue  to  the  curi- 
ous cruciform  shape  of  the  Lake  of  Lucerne 
as  contrasted  with  the  simple  outline  of  such 
lakes  as  those  of  Neuchatel  or  Zurich.  That 
of  Lucerne  is  a  complex  lake.  Soundings 
have  shown  that  the  bottom  of  the  Urner  See 
is  quite  flat.  It  is  in  fact  the  old  bed  of  the 
Reuss,  which  originally  ran,  not  as  now  by 
Lucerne,  but  by  Schwytz  and  through  the 
Lake  of  Zug.  In  the  same  way  the  Alpnach 
See  is  the  old  bed  of  the  Aa,  which  likewise 
ran  through  the  Lake  of  Zug.  The  old  river 
terraces  of  the  Reuss  can  be  traced  in  places 
between  Brunnen  and  Goldau.  Now  these 
terraces  must  have  originally  sloped  from  the 
upper  part  downwards,  from  Brunnen  towards 
Goldau.  But  at  present  the  slope  is  the  other 
way,  i.e.  from  Goldau  towards  Brunnen. 
From  this  and  other  evidence  we  conclude 


viii  RIVERS   AND   LAKES  321 

that  in  the  direction  from  Lucerne  towards 
Rapperschwyl  there  has  been  an  elevation  of 
the  land,  which  has  dammed  up  the  valleys 
and  thus  turned  parts  of  the  Aa  and  the 
Reuss  into  lakes  —  the  two  branches  of  the 
Lake  of  Lucerne  known  as  the  Alpnach  See 
and  Urner  See. 

During  the  earthquakes  of  1819  while  part 
of  the  Runn  of  Cutch,  2000  square  miles  in 
area,  sunk  several  feet,  a  ridge  of  land,  called 
by  the  natives  the  Ulla-Bund  or  "  the  wall  of 
God,"  thirty  miles  long,  and  in  parts  sixteen 
miles  wide,  was  raised  across  an  ancient  arm 
of  the  Indus,  and  turned  it  temporarily  into 
a  lake. 

In  considering  the  great  Italian  lakes, 
which  descend  far  below  the  sea  level,  we 
must  remember  that  the  Valley  of  the  Po  is  a 
continuation  of  the  Adriatic,  now  filled  up 
and  converted  into  land,  by  the  materials 
brought  down  from  the  Alps.  Hence  we  are 
tempted  to  ask  whether  the  lakes  may  not 
be  remains  of  the  ancient  sea  which  once 
occupied  the  whole  plain.  Moreover  just  as 
the  Seals  of  Lake  Baikal  in  Siberia  carry  us 


322  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

back  to  the  time  when  that  great  sheet  of 
fresh  water  was  in  connection  with  the  Arctic 
Ocean,  so  there  is  in  the  character  of  the 
Fauna  of  the  Italian  lakes,  and  especially  the 
presence  of  a  Crab  in  the  Lake  of  Garda, 
some  confirmation  of  such  an  idea.  Further 
evidence,  however,  is  necessary  before  these 
interesting  questions  can  be  definitely  an- 
swered. 

Lastly,  some  lakes  and  inland  seas  seem  to 
be  due  to  even  greater  cosmical  causes.  Thus 
a  line  inclined  ten  degrees  to  the  pole  be- 
ginning at  Gibraltar  would  pass  through 
a  great  chain  of  inland  waters  —  the  Medi- 
terranean, Black  Sea,  Caspian,  Aral,  Baikal, 
and  back  again  through  the  great  American 
lakes. 

But  though  many  causes  have  contributed 
to  the  original  formation  and  direction  of 
Valleys,  their  present  condition  is  mainly  due 
to  the  action  of  water.  When  we  contemplate 
such  a  valley,  for  example,  as  that  which  is 
called  par  excellence  the  "  Yalais,"  we  can  at 
first  hardly  bring  ourselves  to  realise  this; 
but  we  can  trace  up  valleys,  from  the  little 


vin  RIVERS   AND   LAKES  323 

watercourse  made  by  last  night's  rains  up  to 
the  greatest  valleys  of  all. 

These  considerations,  however,  do  not  of 
course  apply  to  such  depressions  as  those 
of  the  great  oceans.  These  were  probably 
formed  when  the  surface  of  the  globe  began 
to  solidify,  and,  though  with  many  modifica- 
tions, have  maintained  their  main  features 
ever  since. 


ON  THE  CONFIGURATION  OF  VALLEYS 

The  conditions  thus  briefly  described  repeat 
themselves  in  river  after  river,  valley  after 
valley,  and  it  adds,  I  think,  very  much  to  the 
interest  with  which  we  regard  them  if,  by 
studying  the  general  causes  to  which  they  are 
due,  we  can  explain  their  origin,  and  thus  to 
some  extent  understand  the  story  they  have 
to  tell  us,  and  the  history  they  record. 

What,  then,  has  that  history  been  ?  The 
same  valley  may  be  of  a  very  different  char- 
acter, and  due  to  very  different  causes,  in  dif- 
ferent parts  of  its  course.  Some  valleys  are 
due  to  folds  (see  Fig.  41)  caused  by  sub  terra- 


324  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

nean  changes,  but  by  far  the  greater  number 
are,  in  their  present  features,  mainly  the  re- 
sult of  erosion.  As  soon  as  any  tract  of  land 
rose  out  of  the  sea,  the  rain  which  fell  on  the 
surface  would  trickle  downwards  in  a  thou- 
sand rills,  forming  pools  here  and  there  (see 
Fig.  37),  and  gradually  collecting  into  larger 
and  larger  streams.  Wherever  the  slope  was 
sufficient  the  water  would  begin  cutting  into 
the  soil  and  carrying  it  off  to  the  sea.  This 
action  would  be  the  same  in  any  case,  but, 
of  course,  would  differ  in  rapidity  according 
to  the  hardness  of  the  ground.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  character  of  the  valley 
would  depend  greatly  on  the  character  of 
the  strata,  being  narrow  where  they  were 
hard  and  tough ;  broader,  on  the  contrary, 
where  they  were  soft,  so  that  they  crumbled 
readily  into  the  stream,  or  where  they  were 
easily  split  by  the  weather.  Gradually  the 
stream  would  eat  into  its  bed  until  it  reached 
a  certain  slope,  the  steepness  of  which  would 
depend  on  the  volume  of  water.  The  erosive 
action  would  then  cease,  but  the  weathering 
of  the  sides  and  consequent  widening  would 


vm  RIVERS   AND   LAKES  325 

continue,  and  the  river  would  wander  from 
one  part  of  its  valley  to  another,  spreading 
the  materials  and  forming  a  river  plain.  At 
length,  as  the  rapidity  still  further  diminished, 
it  would  no  longer  have  sufficient  power  even 
to  carry  off  the  materials  brought  down.  It 
would  form,  therefore,  a  cone  or  delta,  and 
instead  of  meandering,  would  tend  to  divide 
into  different  branches.  These  three  stages, 
we  may  call  those  of  — 

1.  Deepening  and  widening ; 

2.  Widening  and  levelling ; 

3.  Filling  up; 

and  every  place  in  the  second  stage  has  passed 
through  the  first ;  every  one  in  the  third  has 
passed  through  the  second. 

A  velocity  of  6  inches  per  second  will  lift 
fine  sand,  8  inches  will  move  sand  as  coarse 
as  linseed,  12  inches  will  sweep  along  fine 
gravel,  24  inches  will  roll  along  rounded 
pebbles  an  inch  diameter,  and  it  requires  3 
feet  per  second  at  the  bottom  to  sweep  along 
angular  stones  of  the  size  of  an  egg. 

When  a  river  has  so  adjusted  its  slope  that 
it  neither  deepens  its  bed  in  the  upper  portion 


326  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

of  its  course,  nor  deposits  materials,  it  is  said 
to  have  acquired  its  "  regimen/'  and  in  such 
a  case  if  the  character  of  the  soil  remains  the 
same,  the  velocity  must  also  be  uniform.  The 
enlargement  of  the  bed  of  a  river  is  not,  how- 
ever, in  proportion  to  the  increase  of  its  wa- 
ters as  it  approaches  the  sea.  If,  therefore, 
the  slope  did  not  diminish,  the  regimen  would 
be  destroyed,  and  the  river  would  again  com- 
mence to  eat  out  its  bed.  Hence  as  rivers 
enlarge,  the  slope  diminishes,  and  consequently 
every  river  tends  to  assume  some  such  "regi- 
men "  as  that  shown  in  Fig.  46. 

Now,  suppose  that  the  fall  of  the  river  is 
again  increased,  either  by  a  fresh  elevation, 
or  locally  by  the  removal  of  a  barrier.  Then 
once  more  the  river  regains  its  energy.  Again 
it  cuts  into  its  old  bed,  deepening  the  valley, 
and  leaving  the  old  plain  as  a  terrace  high 
above  its  new  course.  In  many  valleys  sev- 
eral such  terraces  may  be  seen,  one  above 
the  other.  In  the  case  of  a  river  running  in  a 
transverse  valley,  that  is  to  say  of  a  valley 
lying  at  right  angles  to  the  "strike"  or  direc- 
tion of  the  strata  (such,  for  instance,  as  the 


viii  RIVERS  AND  LAKES  327 

Reuss),  the  water  acts  more  effectively  than 
in  longitudinal  valleys  running  along  the 
strike.  Hence  the  lateral  valleys  have  been 
less  deeply  excavated  than  that  of  the  Reuss 
itself,  and  the  streams  from  them  enter  the 
main  valley  by  rapids  or  cascades.  Again, 
rivers  running  in  transverse  valleys  cross 
rocks  which  in  many  cases  differ  in  hardness, 
and  of  course  they  cut  down  the  softer  strata 
more  rapidly  than  the  harder  ones ;  each  ridge 
of  harder  rock  will  therefore  form  a  dam  and 
give  rise  to  a  rapid,  or  cataract.  We  often 
as  we  ascend  a  river,  after  a  comparatively 
flat  plain,  find  ourselves  in  a  narrow  defile, 
down  which  the  water  rushes  in  an  impet- 
uous torrent,  but  at  the  summit  of  which, 
to  our  surprise,  we  find  another  broad  flat 
valley. 

Another  lesson  which  we  learn  from  the 
study  of  river  valleys,  is  that,  just  as  geological 
structure  was  shown  by  Sir  C.  Lyell  to  be  no 
evidence  of  cataclysms,  but  the  result  of  slow 
action;  so  also  the  excavation  of  valleys  is 
due  mainly  to  the  regular  flow  of  rivers ;  and 
floods,  though  their  effects  are  more  sudden 


328  THE  BEAUTIES  OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

and  striking,  have  had,  after  all,  comparatively 
little  part  in  the  result. 

The  mouths  of  rivers  fall  into  two  princi- 
pal classes.  If  we  look  at  any  map  we  cannot 
but  be  struck  by  the  fact  that  some  rivers 
terminate  in  a  delta,  some  in  an  estuary.  The 
Thames,  for  instance,  ends  in  a  noble  estuary, 
to  which  London  owes  much  of  its  wealth 
and  power.  It  is  obvious  that  the  Thames 
could  not  have  excavated  this  estuary  while 
the  coast  was  at  its  present  level.  But  we 
know  that  formerly  the  land  stood  higher, 
that  the  German  Ocean  was  once  dry  land, 
and  the  Thames,  after  joining  the  Rhine,  ran 
northwards,  and  fell  eventually  into  the  Arctic 
Ocean.  The  estuary  of  the  Thames,  then, 
dates  back  to  a  period  when  the  south-east  of 
England  stood  at  a  higher  level  than  the 
present,  and  even  now  the  ancient  course  of 
the  river  can  be  traced  by  soundings  under 
what  is  now  sea.  The  sites  of  present  deltas, 
say  of  the  Nile,  were  also  once  under  water, 
and  have  been  gradually  reclaimed  by  the 
deposits  of  the  river. 

It    would   indeed    be    a    great   mistake    to 


vnt  RIVERS   AND   LAKES  329 

suppose  that  rivers  always  tend  to  deepen 
their  valleys.  This  is  only  the  case  when  the 
slope  exceeds  a  certain  angle.  When  the  fall 
is  but  slight  they  tend  on  the  contrary  to 
raise  their  beds  by  depositing  sand  and  mud 
brought  down  from  higher  levels.  Hence  in 
the  lower  part  of  their  course  many  of  the 
most  celebrated  rivers  —  the  Nile,  the  Po,  the 
Mississippi,  the  Thames,  etc.  —  run  upon  em- 
bankments, partly  of  their  own  creation. 


A  n 

Fig.  48.  —  Diagrammatic  section  of  a  valley  (exaggerated) 

R  R,  rocky  basis  of  valley;  A  A,  sedimentary  strata;  B,  ordinary  level 
of  river;  C,  flood  level. 

The  Reno,  the  most  dangerous  of  all  the 
Apennine  rivers,  is  in  some  places  as  much  as 
30  feet  above  the  adjoining  country.  Rivers 
under  such  conditions,  when  not  interfered 
with  by  Man,  sooner  or  later  break  through 
their  banks,  and  leaving  their  former  bed, 
take  a  new  course  along  the  lowest  part  of 


330  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

their  valley,  which  again  they  gradually  raise 
above  the  rest.  Hence,  unless  they  are  kept 
in  their  own  channels  by  human  agency, 
such  rivers  are  continually  changing  their 
course. 

If  we  imagine  a  river  running  down  a 
regularly  inclined  plane  in  a  more  or  less 
straight  line ;  any  inequality  or  obstruction 
would  produce  an  oscillation,  which  when 
once  started  would  go  on  increasing  until 
the  force  of  gravity  drawing  the  water  in  a 
straight  line  downwards  equals  that  of  the 
force  tending  to  divert  its  course.  Hence  the 
radius  of  the  curves  will  follow  a  regular  law 
depending  on  the  volume  of  water  and  the 
angle  of  inclination  of  the  bed.  If  the  fall 
is  10  feet  per  mile  and  the  soil  homogeneous, 
the  curves  would  be  so  much  extended  that 
the  course  would  appear  almost  straight. 
With  a  fall  of  1  foot  per  mile  the  length  of 
the  curve  is,  according  to  Fergusson,  about 
six  times  the  width  of  the  river,  so  that  a 
river  1000  feet  wide  would  oscillate  once  in 
6000  feet.  This  is  an  important  considera- 
tion, and  much  labour  has  been  lost  in  trying 


vni  RIVERS  AND  LAKES  331 

to  prevent  rivers  from  following  their  natural 
law  of  oscillation.  But  rivers  are  very  true  to 
their  own  laws,  and  a  change  at  any  part  is 
continued  both  upwards  and  downwards,  so 
that  a  new  oscillation  in  any  place  cuts  its 
way  through  the  whole  plain  of  the  river  both 
above  and  below. 

The  curves  of  the  Mississippi  are,  for  in- 
stance, for  a  considerable  part  of  its  course 
so  regular  that  they  are  said  to  have  been 
used  by  the  Indians  as  a  measure  of  dis- 
tance. 

If  the  country  is  flat  a  river  gradually 
raises  the  level  on  each  side,  the  water  which 
overflows  during  floods  being  retarded  by 
reeds,  bushes,  trees,  and  a  thousand  other 
obstacles,  gradually  deposits  the  solid  matter 
which  it  contains,  and  thus  raising  the  sur- 
face, becomes  at  length  suspended,  as  it  were, 
above  the  general  level.  When  this  elevation 
has  reached  a  certain  point,  the  river  during 
some  flood  bursts  its  banks,  and  deserting  its 
old  bed  takes  a  new  course  along  the  lowest 
accessible  level.  This  then  it  gradually  fills 
up,  and  so  on  ;  coming  back  from  time  to 


332  THE  BEAUTIES  OF  KATURE  CHAP. 

time  if  permitted,  after  a  long  cycle  of  years, 
to  its  first  course. 

In  evidence  of  the  vast  quantity  of  sediment 
which  rivers  deposit,  I  may  mention  that  the 
river-deposits  at  Calcutta  are  more  than  400 
feet  in  thickness. 

In  addition  to  temporary  "  spates,"  due  to 
heavy  rain,  most  rivers  are  fuller  at  one  time 
of  year  than  another,  our  rivers,  for  instance, 
in  winter,  those  of  Switzerland,  from  the 
melting  of  the  snow,  in  summer.  The  Nile 
commences  to  rise  towards  the  beginning  of 
July ;  from  August  to  October  it  floods  all  the 
low  lands,  and  early  in  November  it  sinks 
again.  At  its  greatest  height  the  volume  of 
water  sometimes  reaches  twenty  times  that 
when  it  is  lowest,  and  yet  perhaps  not  a 
drop  of  rain  may  have  fallen.  Though  we 
now  know  that  this  annual  variation  is  due 
to  the  melting  of  the  snow  and  the  fall  of 
rain  on  the  high  lands  of  Central  Africa,  still 
when  we  consider  that  the  phenomenon  has 
been  repeated  annually  for  thousands  of  years 
it  is  impossible  not  to  regard  it  with  wonder. 
In  fact  Egypt  itself  may  be  said  to  be  the 
bed  of  the  Nile  in  flood  time. 


vin  RIVERS  AND  LAKES  333 

Some  rivers,  on  the  other  hand,  offer  no 
such  periodical  differences.  The  lower  Rhone, 
for  instance,  below  the  junction  with  the 
Saone,  is  nearly  equal  all  through  the  year, 
and  yet  we  know  that  the  upper  portion  is 
greatly  derived  from  the  melting  of  the  Swiss 
snows.  In  this  case,  however,  while  the 
Rhone  itself  is  on  this  account  highest  in 
summer  and  lowest  in  winter,  the  Saone,  on 
the  contrary,  is  swollen  by  the  winter's  rain, 
and  falls  during  the  fine  weather  of  summer. 
Hence  the  two  tend  to  counterbalance  one 
another. 

Periodical  differences  are  of  course  com- 
paratively easy  to  deal  with.  It  is  very  dif- 
ferent with  floods  due  to  irregular  rainfall. 
Here  also,  however,  the  mere  quantity  of  rain 
is  by  no  means  the  only  matter  to  be  con- 
sidered. For  instance  a  heavy  rain  in  the 
watershed  of  the  Seine,  unless  very  prolonged, 
causes  less  difference  in  the  flow  of  the  river, 
say  at  Paris,  than  might  at  first  have  been 
expected,  because  the  height  of  the  flood  in 
the  nearer  affluents  has  passed  down  the  river 
before  that  from  the  more  distant  streams  has 


334  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE        CHAP,  vin 

arrived.  The  highest  level  is  reached  when 
the  rain  in  the  districts  drained  by  the  various 
affluents  happens  to  be  so  timed  that  the 
different  floods  coincide  in  their  arrival  at 
Paris. 


CHAPTER   IX 

THE    SEA 


There  is  a  pleasure  in  the  pathless  woods, 
There  is  a  rapture  on  the  lonely  shore, 
There  is  society,  where  none  intrudes, 
By  the  deep  Sea,  and  music  in  its  roar : 
I  love  not  Man  the  less,  but  Nature  more, 
From  these  our  interviews,  in  which  I  steal 
From  all  I  may  be,  or  have  been  before, 
To  mingle  with  the  Universe,  and  feel 
What  I  can  ne'er  express,  yet  cannot  all  conceal. 

Roll  on,  thou  deep  and  dark-blue  Ocean  —  roll ! 

BYROX. 


CHAPTER   IX 

THE    SEA 

WHEN  the  glorious  summer  weather  comes, 
when  we  feel  that  by  a  year's  honest  work  we 
have  fairly  won  the  prize  of  a  good  holiday, 
how  we  turn  instinctively  to  the  Sea.  We 
pine  for  the  delicious  smell  of  the  sea  air,  the 
murmur  of  the  waves,  the  rushing  sound  of 
the  pebbles  on  the  sloping  shore,  the  cries  of 
the  sea-birds;  and  long  to 

Linger,  where  the  pebble-paven  shore, 
Under  the  quick,  faint  kisses  of  the  Sea, 
Trembles  and  sparkles  as  with  ecstasy.1 

How  beautiful  the  sea-coast  is !  At  the 
foot  of  a  cliff,  perhaps  of  pure  white  chalk,  or 
rich  red  sandstone,  or  stern  grey  granite,  lies 
the  shore  of  gravel  or  sand,  with  a  few 

1  Shelley. 

Z  337 


338  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

scattered  plants  of  blue  Sea  Holly,  or  yellow- 
flowered  Horned  Poppies,  Sea-kale,  Sea  Con- 
volvulus, Saltwort,  Artemisia,  and  Sea-grasses ; 
the  waves  roll  leisurely  in  one  by  one,  and  as 
they  reach  the  beach,  each  in  turn  rises  up  in 
an  arch  of  clear,  cool,  transparent,  green 
water,  tipped  with  white  or  faintly  pinkish 
foam,  and  breaks  lovingly  on  the  sands ; 
while  beyond  lies  the  open  Sea  sparkling  in 
the  sunshine. 

.  .  .  O  pleasant  Sea 
Earth  hath  not  a  plain 
So  boundless  or  so  beautiful  as  thine.1 

The  Sea  is  indeed  at  times  overpoweringly 
beautiful.  At  morning  and  evening  a  sheet 
of  living  silver  or  gold,  at  mid-day  deep  blue ; 
even 

Too  deeply  blue ;  too  beautiful ;  too  bright ; 
Oh,  that  the  shadow  of  a  cloud  might  rest 
Somewhere  upon  the  splendour  of  thy  breast 
In  momentary  gloom.2 

There  are  few  prettier  sights  than  the  beach 
at  a  seaside  town  on  a  fine  summer's  day ; 
the  waves  sparkling  in  the  sunshine,  the  water 

1  Campbell,  2  Holmes, 


ix  THE  SEA  339 

and  sky  each  bluer  than  the  other,  while  the 
sea  seems  as  if  it  had  nothing  to  do  but  to 
laugh  and  play  with  the  children  on  the  sands ; 
the  children  perseveringly  making  castles  with 
spades  and  pails,  which  the  waves  then  run 
up  to  and  wash  away,  over  and  over  and 
over  again,  until  evening  comes  and  the  chil- 
dren go  home,  when  the  Sea  makes  every- 
thing smooth  and  ready  for  the  next  day's 
play. 

Many  are  satisfied  to  admire  the  Sea  from 
shore,  others  more  ambitious  or  more  free 
prefer  a  cruise.  They  feel  with  Tennyson's 
voyager : 

We  left  behind  the  painted  buoy 

That  tosses  at  the  harbour-mouth ; 
And  madly  danced  our  hearts  with  joy, 

As  fast  we  fleeted  to  the  South  : 
How  fresh  was  every  sight  and  sound 

On  open  main  or  winding  shore ! 
We  knew  the  merry  world  was  round, 

And  we  might  sail  for  evermore. 

Many  appreciate  both.  The  long  roll  of 
the  Mediterranean  on  a  fine  day  (and  I  sup- 
pose even  more  of  the  Atlantic,  which  I  have 
never  enjoyed),  far  from  land  in  a  good  ship, 


340  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

and  with  kind  friends,  is  a  joy  never  to  be 
forgotten. 

To  the  Gulf  Stream  and  the  Atlantic  Ocean 
Northern  Europe  owes  its  mild  climate.  The 
same  latitudes  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic 
are  much  colder.  To  find  the  same  average 
temperature  in  the  United  States  we  must  go 
far  to  the  south.  Immediately  opposite  us 
lies  Labrador,  with  an  average  temperature 
the  same  as  that  of  Greenland ;  a  coast 
almost  destitute  of  vegetation,  a  country  of 
snow  and  ice,  whose  principal  wealth  consists 
in  its  furs,  and  a  scattered  population,  mainly 
composed  of  Indians  and  Esquimaux.  But  the 
Atlantic  would  not  alone  produce  so  great  an 
effect.  We  owe  our  mild  and  genial  climate 
mainly  to  the  Gulf  Stream  —  a  river  in  the 
ocean,  twenty  million  times  as  great  as  the 
Rhone  —  the  greatest,  and  for  us  the  most 
important,  river  in  the  world,  which  brings  to 
our  shores  the  sunshine  of  the  West  Indies. 

The  Sea  is  outside  time.  A  thousand,  ten 
thousand,  or  a  million  years  ago  it  must  have 
looked  just  as  it  does  now,  and  as  it  will  ages 
hence.  With  the  land  this  is  not  so.  The 


ix  THE  SEA  341 

mountains  and  hills,  rivers  and  valleys, 
animals  and  plants  are  continually  changing  : 
but  the  Sea  is  always  the  same, 

Steadfast,  serene,  immovable,  the  same 
Year  after  year. 

Directly  we  see  the  coast,  or  even  a  ship, 
the  case  is  altered.  Boats  may  remain  the 
same  for  centuries,  but  ships  are  continually 
being  changed.  The  wooden  walls  of  old 
England  are  things  of  the  past,  and  the  iron- 
clads of  to-day  will  soon  be  themselves  im- 
proved off  the  face  of  the  ocean. 

The  great  characteristic  of  Lakes  is  peace, 
that  of  the  Sea  is  energy,  somewhat  restless, 
perhaps,  but  still  movement  without  fatigue. 

The  Earth  lies  quiet  like  a  child  asleep, 
The  deep  heart  of  the  Heaven  is  calm  and  still, 
Must  thou  alone  a  restless  vigil  keep, 
And  with  thy  sobbing  all  the  silence  fill.1 

A  Lake  in  a  storm  rather  gives  us  the  impres- 
sion of  a  beautiful  Water  Spirit  tormented  by 
some  Evil  Demon ;  but  a  storm  at  Sea  is  one 
of  the  grandest  manifestations  of  Nature, 
i  Bell. 


342  THE  BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

Yet  more  ;  the  billows  and  the  depths  have  more  ; 

High  hearts  and  brave  are  gathered  to  thy  breast ; 
They  hear  not  now  the  booming  waters  roar, 

The  battle  thunders  will  not  break  their  rest. 

Keep  thy  red  gold  and  gems,  thou  stormy  grave ; 

Give  back  the  true  and  brave.1 

The  most  vivid  description  of  a  storm,  at 
sea  is,  I  think,  the  following  passage  from 
Raskin's  Modern  Painters : 

"Few  people,  comparatively,  have  ever 
seen  the  effect  on  the  sea  of  a  powerful  gale 
continued  without  intermission  for  three  or 
four  days  and  nights ;  and  to  those  who  have 
not,  I  believe  it  must  be  unimaginable,  not 
from  the  mere  force  or  size  of  the  surge,  but 
from  the  complete  annihilation  of  the  limit 
between  sea  and  air.  The  water  from  its  pro- 
longed agitation  is  beaten,  not  into  mere 
creaming  foam,  but  into  masses  of  accumu- 
lated yeast,  which  hangs  in  ropes  and  wreaths 
from  wave  to  wave,  and,  where  one  curls  over 
to  break,  form  a  festoon  like  a  drapery  from 
its  edge ;  these  are  taken  up  by  the  wind,  not 
in  dissipating  dust,  but  bodily,  in  writhing, 
hanging,  coiling  masses,  which  make  the  air 

i  Hemans. 


ix  THE  SEA  343 

white  and  thick  as  with  snow,  only  the  flakes 
are  a  foot  or  two  long  each :  the  surges  them- 
selves are  full  of  foam  in  their  very  bodies 
underneath,  making  them  white  all  through, 
as  the  water  is  under  a  great  cataract ;  and 
their  masses,  being  thus  half  water  and  half 
air,  are  torn  to  pieces  by  the  wind  whenever 
they  rise,  and  carried  away  in  roaring  smoke, 
which  chokes  and  strangles  like  actual  water. 
Add  to  this,  that  when  the  air  has  been  ex- 
hausted of  its  moisture  by  long  rain,  the  spray 
of  the  sea  is  caught  by  it  as  described  above, 
and  covers  its  surface  not  merely  with  the 
smoke  of  finely  divided  water,  but  with  boil- 
ing mist ;  imagine  also  the  low  rain-clouds 
brought  down  to  the  very  level  of  the  sea,  as 
I  have  often  seen  them,  whirling  and  flying  in 
rags  and  fragments  from  wave  to  wave ;  and 
finally,  conceive  the  surges  themselves  in  their 
utmost  pitch  of  power,  velocity,  vastness,  and 
madness,  lifting  themselves  in  precipices  and 
peaks,  furrowed  with  their  whirl  of  ascent, 
through  all  this  chaos,  and  you  will  under- 
stand that  there  is  indeed  no  distinction  left 
between  the  sea  and  air ;  that  no  object,  nor 


344  THE  BEAUTIES  OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

horizon,  nor  any  landmark  or  natural  evidence 
of  position  is  left ;  and  the  heaven  is  all  spray, 
and  the  ocean  all  cloud,  and  that  you  can  see 
no  further  in  any  direction  than  you  see 
through  a  cataract." 

SEA  LIFE 

The  Sea  teems  with  life.  The  Great  Sea 
Serpent  is,  indeed,  as  much  a  myth  as  the 
Kraken  of  Pontoppidan,  but  other  monsters, 
scarcely  less  marvellous,  are  actual  realities. 
The  Giant  Cuttle  Fish  of  Newfoundland, 
though  the  body  is  comparatively  small,  may 
measure  60  feet  from  the  tip  of  one  arm  to 
that  of  another.  The  Whalebone  Whale 
reaches  a  length  of  over  70  feet,  but  is  timid 
and  inoffensive.  The  Cachalot  or  Sperm 
Whale,  which  almost  alone  among  animals 
roams  over  the  whole  ocean,  is  as  large,  and 
much  more  formidable.  It  is  armed  with 
powerful  teeth,  and  is  said  to  feed  mainly  on 
Cuttle  Fish,  but  sometimes  on  true  fishes,  or 
even  Seals.  When  wounded  it  often  attacks 
boats,  and  its  companions  do  not  hesitate  to 


ix  THE  SEA  345 

come  to  the  rescue.  In  one  case,  indeed,  an 
American  ship  was  actually  attacked,  stove 
in,  and  sunk  by  a  gigantic  male  Cachalot. 

The  Great  Roqual  is  still  more  formidable, 
and  has  been  said  to  attain  a  length  of  120 
feet,  but  this  is  probably  an  exaggeration. 
So  far  as  we  know,  the  largest  species  of  all 
is  Simmond's  Whale,  which  reaches  a  maxi- 
mum of  85  to  90  feet. 

In  former  times  Whales  were  frequent  on 
our  coasts,  so  that,  as  Bishop  Pontoppidan 
said,  the  sea  sometimes  appeared  as  if  covered 
with  smoking  chimneys,  but  they  have  been 
gradually  driven  further  and  further  north, 
and  are  still  becoming  rarer.  As  they  re- 
treated man  followed,  and  to  them  we  owe 
much  of  our  progress  in  geography.  Is  it 
not,  however,  worth  considering  whether  they 
might  not  also  be  allowed  a  "  truce  of  God," 
whether  some  part  of  the  ocean  might  not  be 
allotted  to  them  where  they  might  be  allowed 
to  breed  in  peace  ?  As  a  mere  mercantile 
arrangement  the  maritime  nations  would  prob- 
ably find  this  very  remunerative.  The  reck- 
less slaughter  of  Whales,  Sea  Elephants,  Seals, 


346  THE  BEAUTIES  OF  NATURE 

and  other  marine  animals  is  a  sad  blot,  not 
only  on  the  character,  but  on  the  common 
sense,  of  man. 

The  monsters  of  the  ocean  require  large 
quantities  of  food,  but  they  are  supplied 
abundantly.  Scoresby  mentions  cases  in 
which  the  sea  was  for  miles  tinged  of  an 
olive  green  by  a  species  of  Medusa.  He 
calculates  that  in  a  cubic  mile  there  must 
have  been  23,888,000,000,000,000,  and  though 
no  doubt  the  living  mass  did  not  reach  to  any 
great  depth,  still,  as  he  sailed  through  water 
thus  discoloured  for  many  miles,  the  number 
must  have  been  almost  incalculable. 

This  is,  moreover,  no  rare  or  exceptional 
case.  Navigators  often  sail  for  leagues 
through  shoals  of  creatures,  which  alter  the 
whole  colour  of  the  sea,  and  actually  change 
it,  as  Reclus  says,  into  "  une  masse  animee." 

Still,  though  the  whole  ocean  teems  with 
life,  both  animals  and  plants  are  most  abun- 
dant near  the  coast.  Air-breathing  animals, 
whether  mammals  or  insects,  are  naturally 
not  well  adapted  to  live  far  from  dry  land. 
Even  Seals,  though  some  of  them  make  re- 


ix  THE  SEA  347 

markable  migrations,  remain  habitually  near 
the  shore.  Whales  alone  are  specially  modified 
so  as  to  make  the  wide  ocean  their  home.  Of 
birds  the  greatest  wanderer  is  the  Albatross, 
which  has  such  powers  of  flight  that  it  is  said 
even  to  sleep  on  the  wing. 

Many  Pelagic  animals — Jelly-fishes,  Mol- 
luscs, Cuttle-fishes,  Worms,  Crustacea,  and 
some  true  fishes  —  are  remarkable  for  having 
become  perfectly  transparent ;  their  shells, 
muscles,  and  even  their  blood  have  lost  all 
colour,  or  even  undergone  the  further  modifi- 
cation of  having  become  blue,  often  with 
beautiful  opalescent  reflections.  This  obvi- 
ously renders  them  less  visible,  and  less  liable 
to  danger. 

The  sea-shore,  wherever  a  firm  hold  can  be 
obtained,  is  covered  with  Sea-weeds,  which 
fall  roughly  into  two  main  divisions,  olive- 
green  and  red,  the  latter  colour  having  a  special 
relation  to  light.  These  Sea-weeds  afford 
food  and  shelter  to  innumerable  animals. 

The  clear  rocky  pools  left  by  the  retiring 
tide  are  richly  clothed  with  green  sea-weeds, 
while  against  the  sides  are  tufts  of  beautiful 


348  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

filmy  red  algae,  interspersed  with  Sea-anem- 
ones/—  white,  creamy,  pink,  yellow,  purple, 
with  a  coronet  of  blue  beads,  and  of  many 
mixed  colours  ;  Sponges,  Corallines,  Starfish, 
Limpets,  Barnacles,  and  other  shell-fish ; 
feathery  Zoophytes  and  Annelides  expand  their 
pink  or  white  disks,  while  here  and  there  a 
Crab  scuttles  across  ;  little  Fish  or  Shrimps 
timidly  come  out  from  crevices  in  the  rocks, 
or  from  among  the  fronds  of  the  sea-weeds,  or 
hastily  dart  from  shelter  to  shelter ;  each 
little  pool  is,  in  fact,  a  miniature  ocean  in 
itself,  and  the  longer  one  looks  the  more  and 
more  one  will  see. 

The  dark  green  and  brown  sea-weeds  do 
not  live  beyond  a  few — say  about  15  — 
fathoms  in  depth.  Below  them  occur  delicate 
scarlet  species,  with  Corallines  and  a  different 
set  of  shells,  Sea-urchins,  etc.  Down  to  about 
100  fathoms  the  animals  and  plants  are  still 
numerous  and  varied.  But  they  gradually 
diminish  in  numbers,  and  are  replaced  by  new 
forms. 

To  appreciate  fully  the  extreme  loveliness 
of  marine  animals  they  must  be  seen  alive. 


ix  THE   SEA  349 

"A  tuft  of  Sertularia,  laden  with  white,  or 
brilliantly  tinted  Polyp ites,"  says  Hincks, 
"like  blossoms  on  some  tropical  tree,  is  .a  per- 
fect marvel  of  beauty.  The  unfolding  of  a 
mass  of  Plumularia,  taken  from  amongst  the 
miscellaneous  contents  of  the  dredge,  and 
thrown  into  a  bottle  of  clear  sea- water,  is  a 
sight  which,  once  seen,  no  dredger  will  for- 
get. A  tree  of  Campanularia,  when  each  one 
of  its  thousand  transparent  calycles  —  itself  a 
study  of  form  —  is  crowned  by  a  circlet  of 
beaded  arms,  drooping  over  its  margin  like 
the  petals  of  a  flower^  offers  a  rare  combi- 
nation of  the  elements  of  beauty. 

The  rocky  wall  of  some  deep  tidal  pool, 
thickly  studded  with  the  long  and  slender 
stems  of  Tubularia,  surmounted  by  the  bright 
rose-coloured  heads,  is  like  the  gay  parterre 
of  a  garden.  Equally  beautiful  is  the  dense 
growth  of  Campanularia,  covering  (as  I  have 
seen  it  in  Plymouth  Sound)  large  tracts  of  the 
rock,  its  delicate  shoots  swaying  to  and  fro 
with  each  movement  of  the  water,  like  trees 
in  a  storm,  or  the  colony  of  Obelia  on  the 
waving  frond  of  the  tangle  looking  almost 


350  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

ethereal  in  its  grace,  transparency,  and  deli- 
cacy, as  seen  against  the  coarse  dark  surface 
that  supports  it." 

Few  things  are  more  beautiful  than  to  look 
down  from  a  boat  into  transparent  water. 
At  the  bottom  wave  graceful  sea-weeds,  brown, 
green,  or  rose-coloured,  and  of  most  varied 
forms ;  on  them  and  on  the  sands  or  rocks 
rest  starfishes,  mollusca,  crustaceans,  Sea- 
anemones,  and  innumerable  other  animals  of 
strange  forms  and  varied  colours  ;  in  the  clear 
water  float  or  dart  about  endless  creatures; 
true  fishes,  many  of  them  brilliantly  coloured ; 
Cuttle-fishes  like  bad  dreams ;  Lobsters  and 
Crabs  with  graceful,  transparent  Shrimps ; 
Worms  swimming  about  like  living  ribbons, 
some  with  thousands  of  coloured  eyes,  and 
Medusae  like  living  glass  of  the  richest  and 
softest  hues,  or  glittering  in  the  sunshine  with 
all  the  colours  of  the  rainbow. 

And  on  calm,  cool  nights  how  often  have  I 
stood  on  the  deck  of  a  ship  watching  with 
wonder  and  awe  the  stars  overhead,  and  the 
sea-fire  below,  especially  in  the  foaming, 
silvery  wake  of  the  vessel,  where  often  sud- 


ix  THE  SEA  351 

denly  appear  globes  of  soft  and  lambent  light, 
given  out  perhaps  from  the  surface  of  some 
large  Medusa. 

"A  beautiful  white  cloud  of  foarn,"  says 
Coleridge,  "at  momently  intervals  coursed  by 
the  side  of  the  vessel  with  a  roar,  and  little 
stars  of  flame  danced  and  sparkled  and  went 
out  in  it ;  and  every  now  and  then  light  de- 
tachments of  this  white  cloud-like  foam  darted 
off  from  the  vessel's  side,  each  with  its  own 
small  constellation,  over  the  sea,  and  scoured 
out  of  sight  like  a  Tartar  troop  over  a  wilder- 


ness." 


Fish  also  are  sometimes  luminous.  The 
Sun-fish  has  been  seen  to  glow  like  a  white- 
hot  cannon-ball,  and  in  one  species  of  Shark 
(Squalus  fulgens)  the  whole  surface  sometimes 
gives  out  a  greenish  lurid  light  which  makes 
it  a  most  ghastly  object,  like  some  great 
ravenous  spectre. 

.THE    OCEAN    DEPTHS 

The  Land  bears  a  rich  harvest  of  life,  but 
only  at  the  surface.  The  Ocean,  on  the  con- 


352  THE  BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

trary,  though  more  richly  peopled  in  its  upper 
layers,  which  swarm  with  such  innumerable 
multitudes  of  living  creatures  that  they  are, 
so  to  say,  almost  themselves  alive  —  teems 
throughout  with  living  beings. 

The  deepest  abysses  have  a  fauna  of  their 
own,  which  makes  up  for  the  comparative 
scantiness  of  its  numbers,  by  the  peculiarity 
and  interest  of  their  forms  and  organisation. 
The  middle  waters  are  the  home  of  various 
Fishes,  Medusae,  and  animalcules,  while  the 
upper  layers  swarm  with  an  inexhaustible 
variety  of  living  creatures. 

It  used  to  be  supposed  that  the  depths  of 
the  Ocean  were  destitute  of  animal  life,  but 
recent  researches,  and  especially  those  made 
during  our  great  national  expedition  in  the 
"Challenger,"  have  shown  that  this  is  not 
the  case,  but  that  the  Ocean  depths  have  a 
wonderful  and  peculiar  life  of  their  own. 
Fish  have  been  dredged  up  even  from  a  depth 
of  2750  fathoms. 

The  conditions  of  life  in  the  Ocean  depths 
are  very  peculiar.  The  light  of  the  sun  can- 
not penetrate  beyond  about  two  hundred 


ix  THE  SEA  353 

fathoms ;  deeper  than  this  complete  darkness 
prevails.  Hence  in  many  species  the  eyes 
have  more  or  less  completely  disappeared. 

Sir  Wyville  Thomson  mentions  a  kind  of 
Crab  (Ethusa  granulata),  which  when  living 
near  the  surface  has  well  developed  eyes ;  in 
deeper  water,  100  to  400  fathoms,  eyestalks 
are  present,  but  the  animal  is  apparently 
blind,  the  eyes  themselves  being  absent ; 
while  in  specimens  from  a  depth  of  500-700 
fathoms  the  eyestalks  themselves  have  lost 
their  special  character,  and  have  become 
fixed,  their  terminations  being  combined  into 
a  strong,  pointed  beak. 

In  other  deep  sea  creatures,  on  the  con- 
trary, the  eyes  gradually  become  more  and 
more  developed,  so  that  while  in  some  species 
the  eyes  gradually  dwindle,  in  others  they 
become  unusually  large. 

Many  of  the  latter  species  may  be  said  to 
be  a  light  to  themselves,  being  provided  with 
a  larger  or  smaller  number  of  curious  luminous 
organs.  The  deep  sea  fish  are  either  silvery^ 
pink,  or  in  many  cases  black,  sometimes  re- 
lieved with  scarlet,  and  when  the  luminous 

2  A 


354  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

organs  flash  out  must  present  a  very  remark- 
able appearance. 

We  have  still  much  to  learn  as  to  the 
structure  and  functions  of  these  organs,  but 
there  are  cases  in  which  their  use  can  be 
surmised  with  some  probability.  The  light- 
is  evidently  under  the  will  of  the  fish.1  It  is 
easy  to  imagine  a  Photichthys  (Light  Fish) 
swimming  in  the  black  depths  of  the  Ocean, 
suddenly  flashing  out  light  from  its  luminous 
organs,  and  thus  bringing  into  view  any  prey 
which  may  be  near  ;  while,  if  danger  is  dis- 
closed, the  light  is  again  at  once  extinguished. 
It  may  be  observed  that  the  largest  of  these 
organs  is  in  this  species  situated  just  under 
the  eye,  so  that  the  fish  is  actually  provided 
with  a  bull's  eye  lantern.  In  other  cases  the 
light  may  rather  serve  as  a  defence,  some 
having,  as,  for  instance,  in  the  genus  Scope- 
lus,  a  pair  of  large  ones  in  the  tail,  so  that 
"  a  strong  ray  of  light  shot  forth  from  the 
stern-chaser  may  dazzle  and  frighten  an 
enemy." 

In    other   cases   they  appear   to   serve   as 

1  Gunther,  History  of  Fishes. 


ix  THE   SEA  355 

lures.  The  "  Sea-devil  "or"  Angler  "  of 
our  coasts  has  on  its  head  three  long,  very 
flexible,  reddish  filaments,  while  all  round  its 
head  are  fringed  appendages,  closely  resem- 
bling fronds  of  sea-weed.  The  fish  conceals 
itself  at  the  bottom,  in  the  sand  or  among 
sea-weed,  and  dangles  the  long  filaments  in 
front  of  its  mouth.  Little  fishes,  taking  these 
filaments  for  worms,  unsuspectingly  approach, 
and  thus  fall  victims. 

Several  species  of  the  same  family  live  at 
great  depths,  and  have  very  similar  habits. 
A  mere  red  filament  would  be  invisible  in  the 
dark  and  therefore  useless.  They  have,  how- 
ever, developed  a  luminous  organ,  a  living 
"  glow-lamp,"  at  the  end  of  the  filament, 
which  doubtless  proves  a  very  effective  lure. 

In  the  great  depths,  however,  fish  are  com- 
paratively rare.  Nor  are  Molluscs  much  more 
abundant.  Sea-urchins,  Sea  Slugs,  and  Star- 
fish are  more  numerous,  and  on  one  occasion 
20,000  specimens  of  an  Echinus  were  brought 
up  at  a  single  haul.  True  corals  are  rare,  nor 
are  Hydrozoa  frequent,  though  a  gaint  species, 
allied  to  the  little  Hydra  of  our  ponds  but 


356  THE  BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

upwards  of  6  feet  in  height,  has  more  than 
once  been  met  with.  Sponges  are  numerous, 
and  often  very  beautiful.  The  now  well 
known  Euplectella,  "  Venus' s  Flower-basket," 
resembles  an  exquisitely  delicate  fabric  woven 
in  spun  silk ;  it  is  in  the  form  of  a  gracefully 
curved  tube,  expanding  slightly  upwards  and 
ending  in  an  elegant  frill.  The  wall  is  formed 
of  parallel  bands  of  glassy  siliceous  fibres, 
crossed  by  others  at  right  angles,  so  as  to 
form  a  square  meshed  net.  These  sponges 
are  anchored  on  the  fine  ooze  by  wisps  of 
glassy  filaments,  which  often  attain  a  con- 
siderable length.  Many  of  these  beautiful 
organisms,  moreover,  glow  when  alive  with 
a  soft  diffused  light,  flickering  and  sparkling 
at  every  touch.  What  would  one  not  give 
to  be  able  to  wander  a  while  in  these  wonder- 
ful regions  ! 

It  is  curious  that  no  plants,  so  far  as  we 
know,  grow  in  the  depths  of  the  Ocean,  or, 
indeed,  as  far  as  our  present  information  goes, 
at  a  greater  depth  than  about  100  fathoms. 

As  regards  the  nature  of  the  bottom  itself, 
it  is  in  the  neighbourhood  of  land  mainly 


ix  THE  SEA  357 

composed  of  materials,  brought  down  by 
rivers  or  washed  from  the  shore,  coarser  near 
the  coast,  and  tending  to  become  finer  and 
finer  as  the  distance  increases  and  the  water 
deepens.  The  bed  of  the  Atlantic  from  400 
to  2000  fathoms  is  covered  with  an  ooze,  or 
very  fine  chalky  deposit,  consisting  to  a  great 
extent  of  minute  and  more  or  less  broken 
shells,  especially  those  of  Globigerina.  At 
still  greater  depths  the  carbonate  of  lime 
gradually  disappears,  and  the  bottom  consists 
of  fine  red  clay,  with  numerous  minute  parti- 
cles, some  of  volcanic,  some  of  meteoric,  origin, 
fragments  of  shooting  stars,  over  100,000,000 
of  which  are  said  to  strike  the  surface  of  our 
earth  every  year.  How  slow  the  process  of 
deposition  must  be,  may  be  inferred  from  the 
fact  that  the  trawl  sometimes  brings  up  many 
teeth  of  Sharks  and  ear-bones  of  Whales  (in 
one  case  no  less  than  600  teeth  and  100  ear- 
bones),  often  semi-fossil,  and  which  from  their 
great  density  had  remained  intact  for  ages, 
long  after  all  the  softer  parts  had  perished 
and  disappeared. 

The  greatest  depth  of  the  Ocean  appears 


/''•y*     OP 

//Vf 

fcL-H 


358  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

to  coincide  roughly  with  the  greatest  height 
of  the  mountains.  There  are  indeed  cases 
recorded  in  which  it  is  said  that  "no  bottom" 
was  found  even  at  39,000  feet.  It  is,  how- 
ever, by  no  means  easy  to  sound  at  such  great 
depths,  and  it  is  now  generally  considered 
that  these  earlier  observations  are  untrust- 
worthy. The  greatest  depth  known  in  the 
Atlantic  is  3875  fathoms  —  a  little  to  the 
north  of  the  Virgin  Islands,  but  the  sound- 
ings as  yet  made  in  the  deeper  parts  of  the 
Ocean  are  few  in  number,  and  it  is  not  to  be 
supposed  that  the  greatest  depth  has  yet  been 
ascertained. 


CORAL    ISLANDS 

In  many  parts  of  the  world  the  geography 
itself  has  been  modified  by  the  enormous  de- 
velopment of  animal  life.  Most  islands  fall 
into  one  of  three  principal  categories : 

Firstar,  Those  which  are  in  reality  a  part 
of  the  continent  near  which  they  lie,  being 
connected  by  comparatively  shallow  water, 
and  standing  to  the  continent  somewhat  in 


IX 


THE   SEA 


359 


the  relation  of  planets  to  the   sun;   as,  for 
instance,  the  Cape  de  Verde  Islands  to  Africa, 
Ceylon  to  India,  or  Tasmania  to  Australia. 
Secondly,  Volcanic  islands ;  and 
Thirdly,  Those  which  owe  their  origin  to 
the  growth  of  Coral  reefs. 


Fig.  49.  — Whitsunday  Island. 

Coral  islands  are  especially  numerous  in 
the  Indian  and  Pacific  Oceans,  where  there 
are  innumerable  islets,  in  the  form  of  rings, 
or  which  together  form  rings,  the  rings  them- 
selves being  sometimes  made  up  of  ringlets. 
These  "atolls"  contain  a  circular  basin  of 
yellowish  green,  clear,  shallow  water,  while 
outside  is  the  dark  blue  deep  water  of  the 
Ocean.  The  islands  themselves  are  quite  low, 
with  a  beach  of  white  sand  rising  but  a  few 


360  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

feet  above  the  level  of  the  water,  and  bear 
generally  groups  of  tufted  Cocoa  Palms. 

It  used  to  be  supposed  that  these  were  the 
summits  of  submarine  volcanoes  on  which  the 
coral  had  grown.  But  as  the  reef-making 
coral  does  not  live  at  greater  depths  than 
about  twenty-five  fathoms,  the  immense 
number  of  these  reefs  formed  an  almost 
insuperable  objection  to  this  theory.  The 
Laccadives  and  Maldives  for  instance — mean- 
ing literally  the  "  lac  of  or  100,000  islands," 
and  the  "  thousand  islands"  —  are  a  series  of 
such  atolls,  and  it  was  impossible  to  imagine 
so  great  a  number  of  craters,  all  so  nearly  of 
the  same  altitude. 

In  shallow  tracts  of  sea,  coral  reefs  no 
doubt  tend  to  assume  the  well-known  circular 
form,  but  the  difficulty  was  to  account  for 
the  numerous  atolls  which  rise  to  the  surface 
form  the  abysses  of  the  ocean,  while  the  coral- 
forming  zoophytes  can  only  live  near  the 
surface. 

Darwin  showed  that  so  far  from  the 
ring  of  corals  resting  on  a  corresponding 
ridge  of  rocks,  the  lagoons,  on  the  contrary, 


ix  THE   SEA  361 

now  occupy  the  place  which  was  once  the 
highest  land.  He  pointed  out  that  some 
lagoons,  as  for  instance  that  of  Vanikoro, 
contain  an  island  in  the  middle ;  while  other 
islands,  such  as  Tahiti,  are  surrounded  by  a 
margin  of  smooth  water  separated  from  the 
ocean  by  a  coral  reef.  Now  if  we  suppose 
that  Tahiti  were  to  sink  slowly  it  would 
gradually  approximate  to  the  condition  of 
Yanikoro ;  and  if  Vanikoro  gradually  sank, 
the  central  island  would  disappear,  while  on 
the  contrary  the  growth  of  the  coral  might 
neutralise  the  subsidence  of  the  reef,  so  that 
we  should  have  simply  an  atoll  with  its 
lagoon.  The  same  considerations  explain  the 
origin  of  the  "barrier  reefs,"  such  as  that 
which  runs  for  nearly  a  thousand  miles,  along 
the  north-east  coast  of  Australia.  Thus 
Darwin's  theory  explains  the  form  and  the 
approximate  identity  of  altitude  of  these 
coral  islands.  But  it  does  more  than 
this,  because  it  shows  that  there  are  great 
areas  in  process  of  subsidence,  which  though 
slow,  is  of  great  importance  in  physical 
geography. 


362  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

The  lagoon  islands  have  received  much 
attention  ;  which  "  is  not  surprising,  for  every 
one  must  be  struck  with  astonishment,  when 
he  first  beholds  one  of  these  vast  rings  of 
coral-rock,  often  many  leagues  in  diameter, 
here  and  there  surmounted  by  a  low  verdant 
island  with  dazzling  white  shores,  bathed  on 
the  outside  by  the  foaming  breakers  of  the 
ocean,  and  on  the  inside  surrounding  a  calm 
expanse  of  water,  which,  from  reflection  is 
generally  of  a  bright  but  pale  green  colour. 
The  naturalist  will  feel  this  astonishment  more 
deeply  after  having  examined  the  soft  and 
almost  gelatinous  bodies  of  these  apparently 
insignificant  coral-polypifers,  and  when  he 
knows  that  the  solid  reef  increases  only  on  the 
outer  edge,  which  day  and  night  is  lashed  by 
the  breakers  of  an  ocean  never  at  rest.  Well 
did  Francois  Pyrard  de  Laval,  in  the  year 
1605  exclaim,  '  C'est  une -merveille  de  voir 
chacun  de  ces  atollons,  environne  d'un  grand 
bane  de  pierre  tout  autour,  n'y  ayant  point 
d' artifice  hum  am.'  "  l 

Of  the  enchanting  beauty  of  the  coral  beds 

1  Darwin,  Coral  Beefs. 


ix  THE  SEA  363 

themselves  we  are  assured  that  language  con- 
veys no  adequate  idea.  "  There  were  corals," 
says  Prof.  Ball,  "  which,  in  their  living  state, 
are  of  many  shades  of  fawn,  buff,  pink,  and 
blue,  while  some  were  tipped  with  a  magenta- 
like  bloom.  Sponges  which  looked  as  hard  as 
stone  spread  over  wide  areas,  while  sprays  of 
coralline  added  their  graceful  forms  to  the 
picture.  Through  the  vistas  so  formed,  golden- 
banded  and  metallic-blue  fish  meandered,  while 
on  the  patches  of  sand  here  and  there  Holo- 
thurias  and  various  mollusca  and  crustaceans 
might  be  seen  slowly  crawling." 

Abercromby  also  gives  a  very  graphic 
description  of  a  Coral  reef.  "As  we  ap- 
proached," he  says,  "  the  roaring  surf  on 
the  outside,  fingery  lumps  of  beautiful  live 
coral  began  to  appear  of  the  palest  lavender- 
blue  colour  ;  and  when  at  last  we  were  almost 
within  the  spray,  the  whole  floor  was  one 
mass  of  living  branches  of  coral. 

"  But  it  is  only  when  venturing  as  far  as  is 
prudent  into  the  water,  over  the  outward  edge 
of  the  great  sea  wall,  that  the  true  character 
of  the  reef  and  all  the  beauties  of  the  ocean 


364  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

can  be  really  seen.  After  walking  over  a  flat 
uninteresting  tract  of  nearly  bare  rock,  you 
look  down  and  see  a  steep  irregular  wall, 
expanding  deeper  into  the  ocean  than  the  eye 
can  follow,  and  broken  into  lovely  grottoes 
and  holes  and  canals,  through  which  small 
resplendent  fish  of  the  brightest  blue  or  gold 
flit  fitfully  between  the  lumps  of  coral.  The 
sides  of  these  natural  grottoes  are  entirely 
covered  with  endless  forms  of  tender-coloured 
coral,  but  all  beautiful,  and  all  more  or  less  of 
the  fingery  or  branching  species,  known  as 
madrepores.  It  is  really  impossible  to  draw 
or  describe  the  sight,  which  must  be  taken 
with  all  its  surroundings  as  adjuncts."  l 

The  vegetation  of  these  fairy  lands  is  also 
very  lovely ;  the  Coral  tree  (Erythrina)  with 
light  green  leaves  and  bunches  of  scarlet 
blossoms,  the  Cocoa-nut  always  beautiful,  the 
breadfruit,  the  graceful  tree  ferns,  the 
Barringtonia,  with  large  pink  and  white 
flowers,  several  species  of  Convolvulus, 
and  many  others  unknown  to  us  even  by 
name. 

1  Abercromby,  Seas  and  Skies  in  many  Latitudes. 


ix  THE   SEA  365 

THE     SOUTHERN     SKIES 

In  considering  these  exquisite  scenes,  the 
beauty  of  the  Southern  skies  must  not  be 
omitted.  "From  the  time  we  entered  the 
torrid  zone/'  says  Humboldt,  "we  were  never 
wearied  with  admiring,  every  night,  the 
beauty  of  the  southern  sky,  which,  as  we 
advanced  towards  the  south,  opened  new 
constellations  to  our  view.  We  feel  an  inde- 
scribable sensation,  when,  on  approaching  the 
equator,  and  particularly  on  passing  from 
one  hemisphere  to  the  other,  we  see  those 
stars  which  we  have  contemplated  from  our 
infancy,  progressively  sink,  and  finally  dis- 
appear. Nothing  awakens  in  the  traveller  a 
livelier  remembrance  of  the  immense  distance 
by  which  he  is  separated  from  his  country, 
than  the  aspect  of  an  unknown  firmament. 
The  grouping  of  the  stars  of  the  first  magni- 
tude, some  scattered  nebulae  rivalling  in 
splendour  the  milky  way,  and  tracts  of  space 
remarkable  for  their  extreme  blackness,  give 
a  particular  physiognomy  to  the  southern  sky. 
This  sight  fills  with  admiration  even  those, 


366  THE  BEAUTIES  OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

who,  uninstructed  in  the  branches  of  accurate 
science,  feel  the  same  emotions  of  delight  in 
the  contemplation  of  the  heavenly  vault,  as 
in  the  view  of  a  beautiful  landscape,  or  a 
majestic  river.  A  traveller  has  no  need  of 
being  a  botanist  to  recognise  the  torrid  zone 
on  the  mere  aspect  of  its  vegetation;  and, 
without  having  acquired  any  notion  of 
astronomy,  he  feels  he  is  not  in  Europe,  when 
he  sees  the  immense  constellation  of  the  Ship, 
or  the  phosphorescent  clouds  of  Magellan, 
arise  on  the  horizon.  The  heaven  and  the 
earth,  in  the  equinoctial  regions,  assume  an 
exotic  character." 

"  The  sunsets  in  the  Eastern  Archipelago," 
says  H.  0.  Forbes,1  "were  scenes  to  be  re- 
membered for  a  life-time.  The  tall  cones  of 
Sibissie  and  Krakatoa  rose  dark  purple  out  of 
an  unruffled  golden  sea,  which  stretched  away 
to  the  south-west,  where  the  sun  went  down ; 
over  the  horizon  gray  fleecy  clouds  lay  in 
banks  and  streaks,  above  them  pale  blue  lanes 
.of  sky,  alternating  with  orange  bands,  which 
higher  up  gave  place  to  an  expanse  of 

1 A  Naturalises  Wanderings  in  the  Eastern  Archipelago. 


ix  THE   SEA  367 

red  stretching  round  the  whole  heavens. 
Gradually  as  the  sun  retreated  deeper  and 
deeper,  the  sky  became  a  marvellous  golden 
curtain,  in  front  of  which  the  gray  clouds 
coiled  themselves  into  weird  forms  before 
dissolving  into  space.  ..." 

0> 

THE     POLES 

The  Arctic  and  Antarctic  regions  have 
always  exercised  a  peculiar  fascination  over 
the  human  mind.  Until  now  every  attempt 
to  reach  the  North  Pole  has  failed,  and  the 
South  has  proved  even  more  inaccessible. 
In  the  north,  Parry  all  but  reached  lat.  83 ; 
in  the  south  no  one  has  penetrated  beyond 
lat.  71.11.  And  yet,  while  no  one  can  say 
what  there  may  be  round  the  North  Pole,  and 
some  still  imagine  that  open  water  might  be 
found  there,  we  can  picture  to  ourselves  the 
extreme  South  with  somewhat  more  confidence. 

Whenever  ships  have  sailed  southwards, 
except  at  a  few  places  where  land  has  been 
met  with,  they  have  come  at  last  to  a  wall  of 
ice,  from  fifty  to  four  hundred  feet  high.  In 


368  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATUKE  CHAP. 

those  regions  it  snows,  if  not  incessantly,  at 
least  very  frequently,  and  the  snow  melts  but 
little.  As  far  as  the  eye  can  reach  nothing  is 
to  be  seen  but  snow.  Now  this  snow  must 
gradually  accumulate,  and  solidify  into  ice, 
until  it  attains  such  a  slope  that  it  will  move 
forward  as  a  glacier.  The  enormous  Icebergs 
of  the  Southern  Ocean,  moreover,  show  that 
it  does  so,  and  that  the  snow  of  the  extreme 
south,  after  condensing  into  ice,  moves  slowly 
outward  and  at  length  forms  a  wall  of  ice, 
from  which  Icebergs,  from  time  to  time, 
break  away.  We  do  not  exactly  know  what, 
under  such  circumstances,  the  slope  would 
be ;  but  Mr.  Croll  points  out  that  if  we  take 
it  at  only  half  a  degree,  and  this  seems  quite 
a  minimum,  the  Ice  cap  at  the  South  Pole 
must  be  no  less  than  twelve  miles  in  thickness. 
It  is  indeed  probably  even  more,  for  some  of 
the  Southern  tabular  icebergs  attain  a  height 
of  eight  hundred,  or  even  a  thousand  feet 
above  water,  indicating  a  total  thickness  of 
the  ice  sheet  even  at  the  edge,  of  over  a  mile. 
Sir  James  Ross  mentions  that  —  "  Whilst 
measuring  some  angles  for  the  survey  near 


ix  THE   SEA  369 

Mount  Lubbock  an  island  suddenly  appeared, 
which  he  was  quite  sure  was  not  to  be  seen 
two  or  three  hours  previously.  He  was  much 
astonished,  but  it  eventually  turned  out  to  be 
a  large  iceberg,  which  had  turned  over,  and  so 
exposed  a  new  surface  covered  with  earth  and 
stones." 

The  condition  of  the  Arctic  regions  is  quite 
different.  There  is  much  more  land,  and  no 
such  enormous  solid  cap  of  ice.  Spitzbergen, 
the  land  of  "  pointed  mountains,"  is  said  to  be 
very  beautiful.  Lord  Dufferin  describes  his 
first  view  of  it  as  "  a  forest  of  thin  lilac  peaks, 
so  faint,  so  pale,  that  had  it  not  been  for 
the  gem-like  distinctness  of  their  outline  one 
could  have  deemed  them  as  unsubstantial  as 
the  spires  of  Fairy-land." 

It  is,  however,  very  desolate ;  scarcely  any 
vegetation  excepting  a  dark  moss,  and  even 
this  goes  but  a  little  way  up  the  mountain 
side.  Scoresby  ascended  one  of  the  hills  near 
Horn  Sound,  and  describes  the  view  as  "  most 
extensive  and  grand.  A  fine  sheltered  bay 
was  seen  to  the  east  of  us,  an  arm  of  the  same 
on  the  north-east,  and  the  sea,  whose  glassy 

2B 


370  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP, 

surface  was  unruffled  by  a  breeze,  formed  an 
immense  expanse  on  the  west ;  the  glaciers," 
rearing  their  proud  crests  almost  to  the  tops 
of  mountains  between  which  they  were  lodged, 
and  defying  the  power  of  the  solar  beams, 
were  scattered  in  various  directions  about  the 
sea-coast  and  in  the  adjoining  bays.  Beds  of 
snow  and  ice  filling  extensive  hollows,  and 
giving  an  enamelled  coat  to  adjoining  valleys, 
one  of  which,  commencing  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountain  where  we  stood,  extended  in  a  con- 
tinual line  towards  the  north,  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach  —  mountain  rising  above  moun- 
tain, until  by  distance  they  dwindled  into 
insignificance,  the  whole  contrasted  by  a  cloud- 
less canopy  of  deepest  azure,  and  enlightened 
by  the  rays  of  a  blazing  sun,  and  the  effect, 
aided  by  a  feeling  of  danger,  seated  as  we 
were  on  the  pinnacle  of  a  rock  almost  sur- 
rounded by  tremendous  precipices  —  all  united 
to  constitute  a  picture  singularly  sublime." 

One  of  the  glaciers  of  Spitzbergen  is  11 
miles  in  breadth  when  it  reaches  the  sea- 
coast,  th&  highest  part  of  the  precipitous  front 
adjoining  the  sea  being  over  400  feet,  and  it 


ix  THE   SEA  371 

extends  far  upwards  towards  the  summit  of 
the  mountain.  The  surface  forms  an  inclined 
plane  of  smooth  unsullied  snow,  the  beauty 
and  brightness  of  which  render  it  a  con- 
spicuous landmark  on  that  inhospitable  shore. 
From  the  perpendicular  face  great  masses  of 
ice  from  time  to  time  break  away, 

Whose  blocks  of  sapphire  seem  to  mortal  eye 
Hewn  from  cserulean  quarries  of  the  sky.1 

Field  ice  is  comparatively  flat,  though  it 
may  be  piled  up  perhaps  as  much  as  50  feet. 
It  is  from  glaciers  that  true  icebergs,  the 
beauty  and  brilliance  of  which  Arctic  trav- 
ellers are  never  tired  of  describing,  take  their 
origin. 

The  attempts  to  reach  the  North  Pole  have 
cost  many  valuable  lives;  Willoughby  and 
Hudson,  Behring  and  Franklin,  and  many 
other  brave  mariners ;  but  yet  there  are  few 
expeditions  more  popular  than  those  to  "  the 
Arctic,"  and  we  cannot  but  hope  that  it  is 
still  reserved  for  the  British  Navy  after  so 
many  gallant  attempts  at  length  to  reach  the 
North  Pole. 

1  Montgomery. 


CHAPTER   X 

THE    STARRY   HEAVENS 


A  man  can  hardly  lift  up  his  eyes  towards  the  heavens 
without  wonder  and  veneration,  to  see  so  many  millions  of 
radiant  lights,  and  to  observe  their  courses  and  revolutions, 
even  without  any  respect  to  the  common  good  of  the 
Universe.  —  SENECA. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE    STAERY    HEAVENS 

MANY  years  ago  I  paid  a  visit  to  Naples, 
and  ascended  Vesuvius  to  see  the  sun  rise  from 
the  top  of  the  mountain.  We  went  up  to 
the  Observatory  in  the  evening  and  spent  the 
night  outside.  The  sky  was  clear;  at  our 
feet  was  the  sea,  and  round  the  bay  the  lights 
of  Naples  formed  a  lovely  semicircle.  Far 
more  beautiful,  however,  were  the  moon  and 
the  stars  overhead ;  the  moon  throwing  a 
silver  path  over  the  water,  and  the  stars 
shining  in  that  clear  atmosphere  with  a 
brilliance  which  I  shall  never  forget. 

For  ages  and  ages  past  men  have  admired 
the  same  glorious  spectacle,  and  yet  neither 
the  imagination  of  Man  nor  the  genius  of 
Poetry  had  risen  to  the  truer  and  grander 

375 


376  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

conceptions  of  the  Heavens  for  which  we 
are  indebted  to  astronomical  Science.  The 
mechanical  contrivances  by  which  it  was 
attempted  to  explain  the  movements  of  the 
heavenly  bodies  were  clumsy  and  prosaic 
when  compared  with  the  great  discovery  of 
Newton.  Kuskin  is  unjust  I  think  when  he 
says  "  Science  teaches  us  that  the  clouds  are 
a  sleety  mist ;  Art,  that  they  are  a  golden 
throne."  I  should  be  the  last  to  disparage 
the  debt  we  owe  to  Art,  but  for  our  knowl- 
edge, and  even  more,  for  bur  appreciation, 
feeble  as  even  yet  it  is,  of  the  overwhelming 
grandeur  of  the  Heavens,  we  are  mainly  in- 
debted to  Science. 

There  is  scarcely  a  form  which  the  fancy  of 
Man  has  not  sometimes  detected  in  the  clouds, 
—  chains  of  mountains,  splendid  cities,  storms 
at  sea,  flights  of  birds,  groups  of  animals, 
monsters  of  all  kinds, — and  our  superstitious 
ancestors  often  terrified  themselves  by  fantas- 
tic visions  of  arms  and  warriors  and  battles 
which  they  regarded  as  portents  of  coming 
calamities.  There  is  hardly  a  day  on  which 
Clouds  do  not  delight  and  surprise  us  by  their 


THE    MOOX. 


To  face  pat ye  377. 


x  THE   STARRY   HEAVENS  377 

forms  and  colours.  They  belong,  however,  to 
our  Earth,  and  I  must  now  pass  on  to  the 
heavenly  bodies. 

THE    MOON 

The  Moon  is  the  nearest,  and  being  the 
nearest,  appears  to  us,  with  the  single  excep- 
tion of  the  Sun,  the  largest,  although  it  is  in 
reality  one  of  the  smallest,  of  the  heavenly 
bodies.  Just  as  the  Earth  goes  round  the 
Sun,  and  the  period  of  revolution  constitutes 
a  year,  so  the  Moon  goes  round  the  Earth 
approximately  in  a  period  of  one  month. 
But  while  we  turn  on  our  axis  every  twenty- 
four  hours,  thus  causing  the  alternation  of 
light  and  darkness  —  day  and  night  —  the 
Moon  takes  a  month  to  revolve  on  hers,  so 
that  she  always  presents  the  same,  or  very 
nearly  the  same,  surface  to  us. 

Seeing  her  as  we  do,  not  like  the  Sun  and 
Stars,  by  light  of  her  own,  but  by  the  reflected 
light  of  the  Sun,  her  form  appears  to  change, 
because  the  side  upon  which  the  Sun  shines 
is  not  always  that  which  we  see.  Hence  the 


378  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATUKE  CHAP. 

"phases"  of  the  Moon,  which  add  so  much  to 
her  beauty  and  interest. 

Who  is  there  who  has  not  watched  them 
with  admiration  ?  "  We  first  see  her  as  an 
exquisite  crescent  of  pale  light  in  the  western 
sky  after  sunset.  Night  after  night  she 
moves  further  and  further  to  the  east,  until 
she  becomes  full,  and  rises  about  the  same 
time  that  the  Sun  sets.  From  the  time  of 
full  moon  the  disc  of  light  begins  to  diminish, 
until  the  last  quarter  is  reached.  Then  it  is 
that  the  Moon  is  seen  high  in  the  heavens  in 
the  morning.  As  the  days  pass  by,  the  cres- 
cent shape  is  again  assumed.  The  crescent 
wanes  thinner  and  thinner  as  the  Moon  draws 
closer  to  the  Sun.  Finally,  she  becomes  lost 
in  the  overpowering  light  of  the  Sun,  again 
to  emerge  as  the  new  moon,  and  again  to  go 
through  the  same  cycle  of  changes." l 

But  although  she  is  so  small  the  Moon  is 
not  only,  next  to  the  Sun,  by  far  the  most 
beautiful,  but  also  for  us  the  most  important, 
of  the  heavenly  bodies.  Her  attraction,  aided 
by  that  of  the  Sun,  causes  the  tides,  which 

1  Ball,  Story  of  the  Heavens. 


x  THE   STARRY  HEAVENS  379 

are  of  such  essential  service  to  navigation. 
They  carry  our  vessels  in  and  out  of  port,  and, 
indeed,  but  for  them  many  of  our  ports  would 
themselves  cease  to  exist,  being  silted  up  by 
the  rivers  running  into  them.  The  Moon  is 
also  of  invaluable  service  to  sailors  by  enabling 
them  to  determine  where  they  are,  and  guid- 
ing them  over  the  pathless  waters. 

The  geography  of  the  Moon,  so  far  as  con- 
cerns the  side  turned  towards  us,  has  been 
carefully  mapped  and  studied,  and  may  almost 
be  said  to  be  as  well  known  as  that  of  our 
own  earth.  The  scenery  is  in  a  high  degree 
weird  and  rugged  ;  it  is  a  great  wilderness  of 
extinct  volcanoes,  and,  seen  with  even  a  very 
moderate  telescope,  is  a  most  beautiful  object. 
The  mountains  are  of  great  size.  Our  loftiest 
mountain,  Mount  Everest,  is  generally  stated 
as  about  29,000  feet  in  height.  The  moun- 
tains of  the  Moon  reach  an  altitude  of  over 
42,000,  but  this  reckons  to  the  lowest  depres- 
sion, and  it  must  be  remembered  that  we 
reckon  the  height  of  mountains  to  the  sea 
level  only.  Several  of  the  craters  on  the 
Moon  have  a  diameter  of  40  or  50  —  one  of 


380 


THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE 


CHAP. 


them  even  as  much  as  78  —  miles.  Many 
also  have  central  cones,  closely  resembling 
those  in  our  own  volcanic  regions.  In  some 
cases  the  craters  are  filled  nearly  to  the  brim 
with  lava.  The  volcanoes  seem,  however,  to 
be  all  extinct ;  and  there  is  not  a  single  case 


Fig.  50.  —  A  group  of  Lunar  Volcanoes. 

in  which  we  have  conclusive  evidence  of  any 
change  in  a  lunar  mountain. 

The  Moon,  being  so  much  smaller  than  the 
earth,  cooled,  of  course,  much  more  rapidly, 
and  it  is  probable  that  these  mountains  are 
millions  of  years  old  —  much  older  than  many 


x  THE   STARRY   HEAVENS  381 

of  our  mountain  chains.  Yet  no  one  can  look 
at  a  map  of  the  Moon  without  being  struck 
with  the  very  rugged  character  of  its  moun- 
tain scenery.  This  is  mainly  due  to  the 
absence  of  air  and  water.  To  these  two 
mighty  agencies,  not  merely  "  the  cloud- 
capped  towers,  the  gorgeous  palaces,  the 
solemn  temples,"  but  the  very  mountains 
themselves,  are  inevitable  victims.  Not 
merely  storms  and  hurricanes,  but  every 
gentle  shower,  every  fall  of  snow,  tends  to 
soften  our  scenery  and  lower  the  mountain 
peaks.  These  agencies  are  absent  from  the 
Moon,  and  the  mountains  stand  to-day  just 
as  they  were  formed  millions  of  years  ago. 

But  though  we  find  on  our  own  globe  (see, 
for  instance,  Fig.  21)  volcanic  regions  closely 
resembling  those  of  the  Moon,  there  are  other 
phenomena  on  the  Moon's  surface  for  which 
our  earth  presents  as  yet  no  explanation. 
From  Tycho,  for  instance,  a  crater  17,000 
feet  high  and  50  miles  across,  a  number  of 
rays  or  streaks  diverge,  which  for  hundreds, 
or  in  some  cases  two  or  three  thousand,  miles 
pass  straight  across  plains,  craters,  and  moun- 


382  THE  BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

tains.    The  true  nature  of  these  streaks  is  not 
yet  understood. 

THE  SUN 

The  Sun  is  more  than  400  times  as  distant 
as  the  Moon  ;  a  mighty  glowing  globe,  in- 
finitely hotter  than  any  earthly  fiery  furnace, 
300,000  times  as  heavy,  and  1,000,000  times 
as  large  as  the  earth.  Its  diameter  is  865,000 
miles,  and  it  revolves  on  its  axis  in  between 
25  and  26  days.  Its  distance  is  92,500,000 
miles.  And  yet  it  is  only  a  star,  and  by  no 
means  one  of  the  first  magnitude. 

The  surface  of  the  Sun  is  the  seat  of  vio- 
lent storms  and  tempests.  From  it  gigantic 
flames,  consisting  mainly  of  hydrogen,  flicker 
and  leap.  Professor  Young  describes  one  as 
being,  when  first  observed,  40,000  miles  high. 
Suddenly  it  became  very  brilliant,  and  in 
half  an  hour  sprang  up  40,000  more.  For 
another  hour  it  soared  higher  and  higher, 
reaching  finally  an  elevation  of  no  less  than 
350,000  miles,  after  which  it  slowly  faded 
away,  and  in  a  couple  of  hours  had  entirely 
disappeared.  This  was  no  doubt  an  excep- 


x  THE   STARRY   HEAVENS  383 

tional  case,  but  a  height  of  100,000  miles  is 
not  unusual,  and  the  velocity  frequently 
reaches  100  miles  in  a  second. 

The  proverbial  spots  on  the  Sun  in  many 
respects  resemble  the  appearances  which  would 
be  presented  if  a  comparatively  dark  central 
mass  was  here  and  there  exposed  by  apertures 
through  the  more  brilliant  outer  gases,  but 
their  true  nature  is  still  a  matter  of  discus- 
sion. 

During  total  eclipses  it  is  seen  that  the 
Sun  is  surrounded  by  a  "corona,"  or  aureola  of 
light,  consisting  of  radiant  filaments,  beams, 
and  sheets  of  light,  which  radiate  in  all  direc- 
tions, and  the  true  nature  of  which  is  still 
doubtful. 

Another  stupendous  problem  connected 
with  the  Sun  is  the  fact  that,  as  geology 
teaches  us,  it  has  given  off  nearly  the  same 
quantity  of  light  and  heat  for  millions  of 
years.  How  has  this  come  to  pass  ?  Certainly 
not  by  any  process  of  burning  such  as  we  are 
familiar  with.  Indeed,  if  the  heat  of  the  Sun 
were  due  to  combustion  it  would  be  burnt  up 
in  6000  years.  It  has  been  suggested  that 


384  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

the  meteors,  which  fall  in  showers  on  to  the 
Sun,  replace  the  heat  which  is  emitted.  To 
some  slight  extent  perhaps  they  do  so,  but  the 
main  cause  seems  to  be  the  slow  condensation 
of  the  Sun  itself.  Mathematicians  tell  us 
that  a  contraction  of  about  220  feet  a  year 
would  account  for  the  whole  heat  emitted,  and 
as  the  present  diameter  of  the  Sun  is  about 
860,000  miles,  the  potential  store  of  heat  is 
still  enormous. 

To  the  Sun  we  owe  our  light  and  heat ;  it 
is  not  only  the  centre  of  our  planetary  system, 
it  is  the  source  and  ruler  of  our  lives.  It 
draws  up  water  from  the  ocean,  and  pours  it 
down  in  rain  to  fill  the  rivers  and  refresh  the 
plants ;  it  raises  the  winds,  which  purify  the 
air  and  waft  our  ships  over  the  seas ;  it  draws 
our  carriages  and  drives  our  steam-engines, 
for  coal  is  but  the  heat  of  former  ages  stored 
up  for  our  use ;  animals  live  and  move  by  the 
Sun's  warmth ;  it  inspires  the  song  of  birds, 
paints  the  flowers,  and  ripens  the  fruit. 
Through  it  the  trees  grow.  For  the  beauties 
of  nature,  for  our  food  and  drink,  for  our 
clothing,  for  our  light  and  life,  for  the  very 


x  THE   STAKRY   HEAVENS  385 

possibility  of  our  existence,  we  are  indebted 
to  the  Sun. 

What  is  the  Sun  made  of  ?  Comte  men- 
tioned as  a  problem,  which  it  was  impossible 
that  man  could  ever  solve,  any  attempt  to 
determine  the  chemical  composition  of  the 
heavenly  bodies.  "  Nous  concevons,"  he  said, 
"  la  possibilite  de  determiner  leurs  formes, 
leurs  distances,  leurs  grandeurs,  et  leurs  mouve- 
ments,  tandis  que  nous  ne  saurions  jamais 
etudier  par  aucun  moyen  leur  composition 
chimique  ou  leur  structure  mineralogique." 
To  do  so  might  well  have  seemed  hopeless, 
and  yet  the  possibility  has  been  proved,  and  a 
beginning  has  been  made.  In  the  early  part 
of  this  century  Wollaston  observed  that  the 
bright  band  of  colours  thrown  by  a  prism,  and 
known  as  the  spectrum,  was  traversed  by 
dark  lines,  which  were  also  discovered,  and 
described  more  in  detail,  by  Fraunhofer,  after 
whom  they  are  generally  called  "  Fraunhofer 's 
lines."  The  next  step  was  made  by  Wheat- 
stone,  who  showed  that  the  spectrum  formed 
by  incandescent  vapours  was  formed  of  bright 
lines,  which  differed  for  each  substance,  and 

2c 


386  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

might,  therefore,  be  -used  as  a  convenient 
mode  of  analysis.  In  fact,  by  this  process 
several  new  substances  have  actually  been 
discovered.  These  bright  lines  were  found 
on  comparison  to  coincide  with  the  dark  lines 
in  the  spectrum,  and  to  Kirchhoff:  and  Bunsen 
is  due  the  credit  of  applying  this  method 
of  research  to  astronomical  science.  They 
arranged  their  apparatus  so  that  one-half  was 
lighted  by  the  Sun,  the  other  by  the  incan- 
descent gas  they  were  examining.  When  the 
vapour  of  sodium  was  treated  in  this  way  they 
found  that  the  bright  line  in  the  flame  of  soda 
exactly  coincided  with  a  line  in  the  Sun's 
spectrum.  The  conclusion  was  obvious ;  there 
is  sodium  in  the  Sun.  It  must,  indeed,  have 
been  a  glorious  moment  when  the  thought 
flashed  upon  them ;  and  the  discovery,  with 
its  results,  is  one  of  the  greatest  triumphs  of 
human  genius. 

The  Sun  has  thus  been  proved  to  contain 
hydrogen,  sodium,  barium,  magnesium,  cal- 
cium, aluminium,  chromium,  iron,  nickle,  man- 
ganese, titanium,  cobalt,  lead,  zinc,  copper, 
cadmium,  strontium,  cerium,  uranium,  potas- 


x  THE   STARRY   HEAVENS  387 

slum,  etc.,  in  all  36  of  our  terrestrial  ele- 
ments, while  as  regards  some  others  the 
evidence  is  not  conclusive.  We  cannot  as 
yet  say  that  any  of  our  elements  are  absent, 
nor  though  there  are  various  lines  which  can- 
not as  yet  be  certainly  referred  to  any  known 
substance,  have  we  clear  proof  that  the  Sun 
contains  any  element  which  does  not  exist  on 
our  earth.  On  the  whole,  then,  the  chemical 
composition  of  the  Sun  appears  closely  to 
resemble  that  of  our  earth. 


THE    PLANETS 

The  Syrian  shepherds  watching  their  flocks 
by  night  long  ago  noticed  —  and  they  were 
probably  not  the  first  —  that  there  were  five 
stars  which  did  not  follow  the  regular  course 
of  the  rest,  but,  apparently  at  least,  moved 
about  irregularly.  These  they  appropriately 
named  Planets,  or  wanderers. 

Further  observations  have  shown  that  this  ir- 
regularity of  their  path  is  only  apparent,  and 
that,  like  our  own  Earth,  they  really  revolve 
round  the  Sun.  To  the  five  first  observed  — 


388  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

Mercury,  Venus,  Mars,  Jupiter,  and  Saturn  — 
two  large  ones,  Uranus  and  Neptune,  and  a 
group  of  minor  bodies,  have  since  been  added. 
The  following  two  diagrams  give  the  rela- 
tive orbits  of  the  Planets. 

Mars 


/Venus  v»>  Mercury 

--- 


687  days 
Fig.  51.  — Orbits  of  the  inner  Planets. 

MERCURY 


It  is  possible,  perhaps  probable,  that  there 
may  be  an  inner  Planet,  but,  so  far  as  we 


x  THE   STARRY   HEAVENS  389 

know  for  certain,  Mercury  is  the  one  nearest 
to  the  Sun,  it's  average  distance  being 
36,000,000  miles.  It  is  much  smaller  than 
the  Earth,  its  weight  being  only  about 


. 
--•'Neptune 


Jupiter.^  .........  ^ 


/^       Mars         ^ 

I  Sun/ 
Fig.  52.  —  Relative  distances  of  the  Planets  from  the  Sun. 

of  ours.  Mercury  is  a  shy  though  beautiful 
object,  for  being  so  near  the  Sun  it  is  not 
easily  visible  ;  it  may,  however,  generally  be 
seen  at  some  time  or  other  during  the  year  as 
a  morning  or  evening  star. 


390  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

VENUS 

The  true  morning  or  evening  star,  however, 
is  Venus  —  the  peerless  and  capricious  Venus. 

Venus,  perhaps,  "  has  not  been  noticed, 
not  been  thought  of,  for  many  months.  It  is 
a  beautifully  clear  evening ;  the  sun  has  just 
set.  The  lover  of  nature  turns  to  admire  the 
sunset,  as  every  lover  of  nature  will.  In  the 
golden  glory  of  the  west  a  beauteous  gem  is 
seen  to  glisten;  it  is  the  evening  star,  the 
planet  Venus.  A  week  or  two  later  another 
beautiful  sunset  is  seen,  and  now  the  planet 
is  no  longer  a  glistening  point  low  down ;  it 
has  risen  high  above  the  horizon,  and  con- 
tinues a  brilliant  object  long  after  the  shades 
of  night  have  descended.  Again  a  little 
longer  and  Venus  has  gained  its  full  brilliancy 
and  splendour.  All  the  heavenly  host  —  even 
Sirius  and  Jupiter  —  must  pale  before  the 
splendid  lustre  of  Venus,  the  unrivalled  queen 
of  the  firmament."  l 

Venus  is  about  as  large  as  our  Earth,  and 
when  at  her  brightest  outshines  about  fifty 

1  Ball,  Story  of  the  Heavens. 


x  THE   STARRY  HEAVENS  391 

times  the  most  brilliant  star.  Yet,  like  all 
the  other  planets,  she  glows  only  with  the 
reflected  light  of  the  Sun,  and  consequently 
passes  through  phases  like  those  of  the  Moon, 
though  we  cannot  see  them  with  the  naked 
eye.  To  Yen  us  also  owe  we  mainly  the  power 
of  determining  the  distance,  and  consequently 
the  magnitude,  of  the  Sun. 


THE    EARTH 

Our  own  Earth  has  formed  the  subject  of 
previous  chapters.  I  will  now,  therefore,  only 
call  attention  to  her  movements,  in  which,  of 
course,  though  unconsciously,  we  participate. 
In  the  first  place,  the  Earth  revolves  on  her 
axis  in  24  hours.  Her  circumference  at  the 
tropics  is  24,000  miles.  Hence  a  person  at  the 
tropics  is  moving  in  this  respect  at  the  rate  of 
1000  miles  an  hour,  or  over  16  miles  a 
minute. 

But  more  than  this,  astronomers  have 
ascertained  that  the  whole  solar  system  is 
engaged  in  a  great  voyage  through  space, 
moving  towards  a  point  on  the  constellation 


392  THE   BEAUTIES  OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

of  Hercules  at  the  rate  of  at  least  20,000 
miles  an  hour,  or  over  300  miles  a  minute.1 

But  even  more  again,  we  revolve  annually 
round  the  Sun  in  a  mighty  orbit  580,000,000 
miles  in  circumference.  In  this  respect  we 
are  moving  at  the  rate  of  no  less  than  60,000 
miles  an  hour,  or  1000  miles  a  minute  —  a 
rate  far  exceeding  of  course,  in  fact  by  some 
100  times,  that  of  a  cannon  ball. 

How  few  of  us  know,  how  little  we  any  of 
us  realise,  that  we  are  rushing  through  space 
with  such  enormous  velocity. 

MARS 

To  the  naked  eye  Mars  appears  like  a 
ruddy  star  of  the  first  magnitude.  It  has 
two  satellites,  which  have  been  happily  named 
Phobos  and  Deimos  —  Fear  and  Dismay.  It 
is  little  more  than  half  as  large  as  the  Earth, 
and,  though  generally  far  more  distant,  it 
sometimes  approaches  us  within  35,000,000 
miles.  This  has  enabled  us  to  study  its 
physical  structure.  It  seems  very  probable 

1  Some  authorities  estimate  it  even  higher. 


x  THE   STARRY   HEAVENS  393 

that  there  is  water  in  Mars,  and  the  two  poles 
are  tipped  with  white,  as  if  capped  by  ice  and 
snow.  It  presents  also  a  series  of  remarkable 
parallel  lines,  the  true  nature  of  which  is  not 
yet  understood. 


THE    MINOR   PLANETS 

A  glance  at  Figs.  51  and  52  will  show  that 
the  distances  of  the  Planets  from  the  Sun 
follow  a  certain  rule. 

If  we  take  the  numbers  0,  3,  6,  12,  24,  48, 
96,  each  one  (after  the  second)  the  double  of 
that  preceding,  and  add  four,  we  have  the 
series. 

4        7        10         16         28         52         100 

Now  the  distances  of  the  Planets  from  the 
Sun  are  as  follow  :  — 

Mercury.        Venus.       Earth.       Mars.  Jupiter.        Saturn. 

3.9         7.2        10      15.2  52.9       95.4 

For  this  sequence,  which  was  first  noticed 
by  Bode,  and  is  known  as  Bode's  law,  no 
explanation  can  yet  be  given.  It  was  of 
course  at  once  observed  that  between  Mars 
and  Jupiter  one  place  is  vacant,  and  it  has 


394  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

now  been  ascertained  that  this  is  occupied  by 
a  zone  of  Minor  Planets,  the  first  of  which 
was  discovered  by  Piazzi  on  January  1,  1801, 
a  worthy  prelude  to  the  succession  of  scientific 
discoveries  which  form  the  glory  of  our  cen- 
tury. At  present  over  300  are  known,  but 
certainly  these  are  merely  the  larger  among 
an  immense  number,  some  of  them  doubtless 
mere  dust. 


JUPITER 

Beyond  the  Minor  Planets  we  come  to  the 
stupendous  Jupiter,  containing  300  times  the 
mass,  and  being  1200  times  the  size  of  our 
Earth  —  larger  indeed  than  all  the  other 
planets  put  together.  It  is  probably  not 
solid,  and  from  its  great  size  still  retains  a 
large  portion  of  the  original  heat,  if  we  may 
use  such  an  expression.  Jupiter  usually 
shows  a  number  of  belts,  supposed  to  be  due 
to  clouds  floating  over  the  surface,  which  have 
a  tendency  to  arrange  themselves  in  belts  or 
bands,  owing  to  the  rotation  of  the  planet. 
Jupiter  has  four  moons  or  satellites. 

r 


x  THE   STARRY   HEAVENS  395 

SATURN 

Next  to  Jupiter  in  size,  as  in  position, 
comes  Saturn,  which,  though  far  inferior  in 
dimensions,  is  much  superior  in  beauty.  To 
the  naked  eye  Saturn  appears  as  a  brilliant 
star,  but  when  Galileo  first  saw  it  through  a 
telescope  it  appeared  to  him  to  be  composed 
of  three  bodies  in  a  line,  a  central  globe  with 
a  small  one  on  each  side.  Huyghens  in  1655 


Fig.  53.  —  Saturn. 

first  showed  that  in  reality  Saturn  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  series  of  rings  (see  Fig.  53). 
Of  these  there  are  three,  the  inner  one  very 
faint,  and  the  outer  one  divided  into  two  by 
a  dark  line.  These  rings  are  really  enormous 
shoals  of  minute  bodies  revolving  round  the 
planet,  and  rendering  it  perhaps  the  most 


396  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

marvellous  and  beautiful  of  all  the  heavenly 
bodies. 

While  we  have  one  Moon,  Mars  two,  arid 
Jupiter  four,  Saturn  has  no  less  than  eight 
satellites. 

URANUS 

Saturn  was  long  supposed  to  be  the  outer- 
most body  belonging  to  the  solar  system. 
In  1781,  however,  on  the  13th  March, 
William  Herschel  was  examining  the  stars 
in  the  constellation  of  the  Twins.  One  struck 
him  because  it  presented  a  distinct  disc,  while 
the  true  fixed  stars,  however  brilliant,  are, 
even  with  the  most  powerful  telescope,  mere 
points  of  light-.  At  first  he  thought  it  might 
be  a  comet,  but  careful  observations  showed 
that  it  was  really  a  new  planet.  Though 
thus  discovered  by  Herschel  it  had  often 
been  seen  before,  but  its  true  nature  was 
unsuspected.  It  has  a  diameter  of  about 
31,700  miles. 

Four  satellites  of  Uranus  have  been  dis- 
covered, and  they  present  the  remarkable 
peculiarity  that  while  all  the  other  planets 


x  THE  STAKRY   HEAVENS  397 

and  their  satellites  revolve  nearly  in  one 
plane,  the  satellites  of  Uranus  are  nearly  at 
right  angles,  indicating  the  presence  of  some 
local  and  exceptional  influence. 


NEPTUNE 

The  study  of  Uranus  soon  showed  that  it 
followed  a  path  which  could  not  be  accounted 
for  by  the  influence  of  the  Sun  and  the  other 
then  known  planets.  It  was  suspected,  there- 
fore, that  this  was  due  to  some  other  body 
not  yet  discovered.  To  calculate  where 
such  a  body  must  be  so  as  to  account  for 
these  irregularities  was  a  most  complex  and 
difficult,  and  might  have  seemed  almost  a 
hopeless,  task.  It  was,  however,  solved  al- 
most simultaneously  and  independently  by 
Adams  in  this  country,  and  Le  Verrier  in 
France. 

Neptune,  so  far  as  we  yet  know  the  out- 
most of  our  companions,  is  35,000  miles  in 
diameter,  and  its  mean  distance  from  the  Sun 
is  2,780,000,000  miles. 


THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 


ORIGIN    OF    THE    PLANETARY    SYSTEM 

The  theory  of  the  origin  of  the  Planetary 
System  known  as  the  "  Nebular  Hypothesis/' 
which  was  first  suggested  by  Kant,  and  de- 
veloped by  Herschel  arid  Laplace,  may  be 
fairly  said  to  have  attained  a  high  degree  of 
probability.  The  space  now  occupied  by  the 
solar  system  is  supposed  to  have  been  filled 
by  a  rotating  spheroid  of  extreme  tenuity 
and  enormous  heat,  due  perhaps  to  the  col- 
lision of  two  originally  separate  bodies.  The 
heat,  however,  having  by  degrees  radiated 
into  space,  the  gas  cooled  and  contracted 
towards  a  centre,  destined  to  become  the  Sun. 
Through  the  action  of  centrifugal  force  the 
gaseous  matter  also  flattened  itself  at  the 
two  poles,  taking  somewhat  the  form  of  a 
disc.  For  a  certain  time  the  tendency  to 
contract,  and  the  centrifugal  force,  counter- 
balanced one  another,  but  at  length  a  time 
came  when  the  latter  prevailed  and  the  outer 
zone  detached  itself  from  the  rest  of  the 
sphere.  One  after  another  similar  rings  were 
thrown  off,  and  then  breaking  up,  formed  the 
planets  and  their  satellites. 


x  THE   STARRY   HEAVENS  399 

That  each  planet  and  satellite  did  form 
originally  a  ring  we  still  have  evidence  in  the 
wonderful  and  beautiful  rings  of  Saturn, 
which,  however,  in  all  probability  will  eventu- 
ally form  spherical  satellites  like  the  rest. 
Thus  then  our  Earth  was  originally  a  part 
of  the  Sun,  to  which  again  it  is  destined  one 
day  to  return.  M.  Plateau  has  shown  experi- 
mentally that  by  rotating  a  globe  of  oil  in  a 
mixture  of  water  and  spirit  having  the  same 
density  this  process  may  be  actually  repeated 
in  miniature. 

This  brilliant,  and  yet  simple,  hypothesis 
is  consistent  with,  and  explains  many  other 
circumstances  connected  with  the  position, 
magnitude,  and  movements  of  the  Planets 
and  their  satellites. 

The  Planets,  for  instance,  lie  more  or  less 
in  the  same  plane,  they  revolve  round  the 
Sun  and  rotate  on  their  own  axis  in  the  same 
direction  —  a  series  of  coincidences  which  can- 
not be  accidental,  and  for  which  the  theory 
would  account.  Again  the  rate  of  cooling 
would  of  course  follow  the  size ;  a  small  body 
cools  more  rapidly  than  a  large  one.  The 


400  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

Moon  is  cold  and  rigid;  the  Earth  is  solid  at 
the  surface,  but  intensely  hot  within ;  Jupiter 
and  Saturn,  which  are  immensely  larger,  still 
retain  much  of  their  original  heat,  and  have 
a  much  lower  density  than  the  Earth;  and 
astronomers  tell  us  on  other  grounds  that  the 
Sun  itself  is  still  contracting,  and  that  to  this 
the  maintenance  of  its  temperature  is  due. 

Although,  therefore,  the  Nebular  Theory 
cannot  be  said  to  have  been  absolutely  proved, 
it  has  certainly  been  brought  to  a  high  state 
of  probability,  and  is,  in  its  main  features, 
generally  accepted  by  astronomers. 

The  question  has  often  been  asked  whether 
any  of  the  heavenly  bodies  are  inhabited,  and 
as  yet  it  is  impossible  to  give  any  certain 
answer.  It  seems  a  priori  probable  that  the 
millions  of  suns  which  we  see  as  stars  must 
have  satellites,  and  that  some  at  least  of  them 
may  be  inhabited.  So  far  as  our  own  system 
is  concerned  the  Sun  is  of  course  too  hot  to 
serve  as  a  dwelling-place  for  any  beings  with 
bodies  such  as  ours.  The  same  may  be  said 
of  Mercury,  which  is  at  times  probably  ten 
times  as  hot  as  our  tropics.  The  outer  planets 


x  THE   STARRY   HEAVENS  401 

appear  to  be  still  in  a  state  of  vapour.      The 
Moon  has  no  air  or  water. 

Mars  is  in  a  condition  which  most  nearly 
resembles  ours.  All,  however,  that  can  be 
said  is  that,  so  far  as  we  can  see,  the  exis- 
tence of  living  beings  on  Mars  is  not  impos- 
sible. 


COMETS 

The  Sun,  Moon,  and  Stars,  glorious  and 
wonderful  as  they  are,  though  regarded  with 
great  interest,  and  in  some  cases  worshipped 
as  deities,  excited  the  imagination  of  our 
ancestors  less  than  might  have  been  expected, 
and  even  now  attract  comparatively  little 
attention,  from  the  fact  that  they  are  always 
with  us.  Comets,  on  the  other  hand,  both  as 
rare  and  occasional  visitors,  from  their  large 
size  and  rapid  changes,  were  regarded  in 
ancient  times  with  dread  and  with  amaze- 
ment. 

Some  Comets  revolve  round  the  Sun  in 
ellipses,  but  many,  if  not  the  majority,  are 
visitors  indeed,  for  having  once  passed  round 

2D 


402  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

the  Sun  they  pass  away  again  into  space, 
never  to  return. 

The  appearance  which  is  generally  regarded 
as  characteristic  of  a  Comet  is  that  of  a 
head  with  a  central  nucleus  and  a  long  tail. 
Many,  however,  of  the  smaller  ones  possess 
no  tail,  and  in  fact  Comets  present  almost 
innumerable  differences.  Moreover  the  same 
Comet  changes  rapidly,  so  that  when  they 
return,  they  are  identified  not  in  any  way  by 
their  appearance,  but  by  the  path  they 
pursue. 

Comets  may  almost  be  regarded  as  the 
ghosts  of  heavenly  bodies.  The  heads,  in 
some  cases,  may  consist  of  separate  solid 
fragments,  though  on  this  astronomers  are 
by  no  means  agreed,  but  the  tails  at  any  rate 
are  in  fact  of  almost  inconceivable  tenuity. 
We  know  that  a  cloud  a  few  hundred  feet 
thick  is  sufficient  to  hide,  not  only  the  stars, 
but  even  the  Sun  himself.  A  Comet  is 
thousands  of  miles  in  thickness,  and  yet  even 
extremely  minute  stars  can  be  seen  through 
it  with  no  appreciable  diminution  of  bright- 
ness. This  extreme  tenuity  of  comets  is 


x  THE   STARRY   HEAVENS  403 

moreover  shown  by  their  small  weight. 
Enormous  as  they  are  I  remember  Sir  G. 
Airy  saying  that  there  was  probably  more 
matter  in  a  cricket  ball  than  there  is  in  a 
comet.  No  one,  however,  now  doubts  that 
the  weight  must  be  measured  in  tons ;  but 
it  is  so  small,  in  relation  to  the  size,  as  to 
be  practically  inappreciable.  If  indeed  they 
were  comparable  in  mass  even  to  the  planets, 
we  should  long  ago  have  perished.  The 
security  of  our  system  is  due  to  the  fact  that 
the  planets  revolve  round  the  Sun  in  one 
direction,  almost  in  circles,  and  very  nearly 
in  the  same  plane.  Comets,  however,  enter 
our  system  in  all  directions,  and  at  all  angles ; 
they  are  so  numerous  that,  as  Kepler  said, 
there  are  probably  more  Comets  in  the  sky 
than  there  are  fishes  in  the  sea,  and  but  for 
their  extreme  tenuity  they  would  long  ago 
have  driven  us  into  the  Sun. 

When  they  first  come  in  sight  Comets 
have  generally  no  tail ;  it  grows  as  they 
approach  the  Sun,  from  which  it  always 
points  away.  It  is  no  mere  optical  illusion ; 
but  while  the  Comet  as  a  whole  is  attracted 


404  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

by  the  Sun,  the  tail,  how  or  why  we  know 
not,  is  repelled.  When  once  driven  off,  more- 
over, the  attraction  of  the  Comet  is  not  suf- 
ficient to  recall  it,  and  hence  perhaps  so  many 
Comets  have  now  no  tails. 

Donati's  Comet,  the  great  Comet  of  1858, 
was  first  noticed  on  the  2d  June  as  a  faint 
nebulous  spot.  For  three  months  it  remained 
quite  inconspicuous,  and  even  at  the  end  of 
August  was  scarcely  visible  to  the  naked  eye. 
In  September  it  grew  rapidly,  and  by  the 
middle  of  October  the  tail  extended  no  less 
than  40  degrees,  after  which  it  gradually 
disappeared. 

Faint  as  is  the  light  emitted  by  Comets, 
it  is  yet  their  own,  and  spectrum  analysis  has 
detected  the  presence  in  them  of  carbon, 
hydrogen,  nitrogen,  sodium,  and  probably  of 
iron. 

Comets  then  remain  as  wonderful,  and 
almost  as  mysterious,  as  ever,  but  we  need  no 
longer  regard  "  a  comet  as  a  sign  of  impend- 
ing calamity ;  we  may  rather  look  upon  it  as 
an  interesting  and  a  beautiful  visitor,  which 
comes  to  please  us  and  to  instruct  us,  but 


x  THE   STARRY   HEAVENS  405 

never  to  threaten  or  to  destroy."  1  We  are 
free,  therefore,  to  admire  them  in  peace,  and 
beautiful,  indeed,  they  are. 

"The  most  wonderful  sight  I  remember," 
says  Hamerton,  "as  an  effect  of  calm,  was 
the  inversion  of  Donati's  Comet,  in  the  year 
1858,  during  the  nights  when  it  was  suffi- 
ciently near  the  horizon  to  approach  the  rugged 
outline  of  G-raiganunie,  and  be  reflected 
beneath  it  in  Loch  Awe.  In  the  sky  was  an 
enormous  aigrette  of  diamond  fire,  in  the 
water  a  second  aigrette,  scarcely  less  splendid, 
with  its  brilliant  point  directed  upwards,  and 
its  broad,  shadowy  extremity  ending  indefi- 
nitely in  the  deep.  To  be  out  on  the  lake 
alone,  in  a  tiny  boat,  and  let  it  rest  motionless 
on  the  glassy  water,  with  that  incomparable 
spectacle  before  one,  was  an  experience  to  be 
remembered  through  a  lifetime.  I  have  seen 
many  a  glorious  sight  since  that  now  distant 
year,  but  nothing  to  equal  it  in  the  association 
of  solemnity  with  splendour."  2 

1  Ball.  2  Hamerton,  La ndscape. 


406  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

SHOOTING    STARS 

On  almost  any  bright  night,  if  we  watch  a 
short  time  some  star  will  suddenly  seem  to 
drop  from  its  place,  and,  after  a  short  plunge, 
to  disappear.  This  appearance  is,  however, 
partly  illusory.  While  true  stars  are  immense 
bodies  at  an  enormous  distance,  Shooting  Stars 
are  very  small,  perhaps  not  larger  than  a  pav- 
ing stone,  and  are  not  visible  until  they  come 
within  the  limits  of  our  atmosphere,  by  the 
friction  with  which  they  are  set  on  fire  and 
dissipated.  They  are  much  more  numerous  on 
some  nights  than  others.  From  the  9th  to 
the  llth  August  we  pass  through  one  cluster 
which  is  known  as  the  Perseids ;  and  on  the 
13th  and  14th  November  a  still  greater  group 
called  by  astronomers  the  Leonids.  The 
Leonids  revolve  round  the  Sun  in  a  period  of 
33  years,  and  in  an  elliptic  orbit,  one  focus  of 
which  is  about  at  the  same  distance  from  the 
Sun  as  we  are,  the  other  at  about  that  of 
Uranus.  The  shoal  of  stars  is  enormous ;  its 
diameter  cannot  be  less  than  100,000  miles, 
and  its  length  many  hundreds  of  thousands. 


x  THE   STARRY  HEAVENS  407 

There  are,  indeed,  stragglers  scattered  over  the 
whole  orbit,  with  some  of  which  we  come  in 
contact  every  year,  but  we  pass  through  the 
main  body  three  times  in  a  century  —  last  in 
1866  —  capturing  millions  on  each  occasion. 
One  of  these  has  been  graphically  described 
by  Humboldt : 

"  From  half  after  two  in  the  morning  the 
most  extraordinary  luminary  meteors  were 
seen  in  the  direction  of  the  east.  M.  Bonp- 
land,  who  had  risen  to  enjoy  the  freshness  of 
the  air,  perceived  them  first.  Thousands  of 
bodies  and  falling  stars  succeeded  each  other 
during  the  space  of  four  hours.  Their  direc- 
tion was  very  regular  from  north  to  south. 
They  filled  a  space  in  the  sky  extending  from 
due  east  30°  to  north  and  south.  In  an  ampli- 
tude of  60°  the  meteors  were  seen  to  rise 
above  the  horizon  at  east-north-east,  and  at 
east,  to  describe  arcs  more  or  less  extended, 
and  to  fall  towards  the  south,  after  having 
followed  the  direction  of  the  meridian.  Some 
of  them  attained  a  height  of  40°,  and  all  ex- 
ceeded 25°  or  30°.  No  trace  of  clouds  was  to 
be  seen.  M.  Bonpland  states  that,  from  the 


408  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

first  appearance  of  the  phenomenon,  there  was 
not  in  the  firmament  a  space  equal  in  extent 
to  three  diameters  of  the  moon  which  was  not 
filled  every  instant  with  bolides  and  falling 
stars.  The  first  were  fewer  in  number,  but 
as  they  were  of  different  sizes  it  was  impos- 
sible to  fix  the  limit  between  these  two  classes 
of  phenomena.  All  these  meteors  left  lumi- 
nous traces  from  five  to  ten  degrees  in  length, 
as  often  happens  in  the  equinoctial  regions. 
The  phosphorescence  of  these  traces,  or  lumi- 
nous bands,  lasted  seven  or  eight  seconds. 
Many  of  the  falling  stars  had  a  very  distinct 
nucleus,  as  large  as  the  disc  of  Jupiter,  from 
which  darted  sparks  of  vivid  light.  The 
bodies  seemed  to  burst  as  by  explosion ;  but 
the  largest,  those  from  1°  to  1°  15'  in  diameter, 
disappeared  without  scintillation,  leaving  be- 
hind them  phosphorescent  bands  (trabes), 
exceeding  in  breadth  fifteen  or  twenty  min- 
utes. The  light  of  these  meteors  was  white, 
and  not  reddish,  which  must  doubtless  be 
attributed  to  the  absence  of  vapour  and  the 
extreme  transparency  of  the  air." 

1Humboldt,  Travels. 


x  THE   STARRY   HEAVENS  409 

The  past  history  of  the  Leonids,  which  Le 
Verrier  has  traced  out  with  great  probability, 
if  not  proved,  is  very  interesting.  They  did 
not,  he  considers,  approach  the  Sun  until 
126  A.D.,  when,  in  their  career  through  the 
heavens,  they  chanced  to  come  near  to  Uranus. 
But  for  the  influence  of  that  planet  they 
would  have  passed  round  the  Sun,  and  then 
departed  again  for  ever.  By  his  attraction, 
however,  their  course  was  altered,  and  they 
will  now  continue  to  revolve  round  the 
Sun. 

There  is  a  remarkable  connection  between 
star  showers  and  comets,  which,  however,  is 
not  yet  thoroughly  understood.  Several  star 
showers  follow  paths  which  are  also  those  of 
comets,  and  the  conclusion  appears  almost 
irresistible  that  these  comets  are  made  up  of 
Shooting  Stars. 

We  are  told,  indeed,  that  150,000,000  of 
meteors,  including  only  those  visible  with  a 
moderate  telescope,  fall  on  the  earth  annually. 
At  any  rate,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that 
every  year  millions  of  them  are  captured  by 
the  earth,  thus  constituting  an  appreciable, 


410  THE   BEAUTIES  OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

and  in  the  course  of  ages  a  constantly  in- 
creasing, part  of  the  solid  substance  of  the 
globe. 

THE    STARS 

We  have  been  dealing  in  the  earlier  part  of 
this  chapter  with  figures  and  distances  so 
enormous  that  it  is  quite  impossible  for  us  to 
realise  them  ;  and  yet  we  have  still  others  to 
consider  compared  with  which  even  the  solar 
system  is  insignificant. 

In  the  first  place,  the  number  of  the  Stars  is 
enormous.  When  we  look  at  the  sky  at  night 
they  seem,  indeed,  almost  innumerable ;  so 
that,  like  the  sands  of  the  sea,  the  Stars  of 
heaven  have  ever  been  used  as  effective  sym- 
bols of  number.  The  total  number  visible  to 
the  naked  eye  is,  however,  in  reality  only 
about  3000,  while  that  shown  by  the  tele- 
scope is  about  100,000,000.  Photography, 
however,  has  revealed  to  us  the  existence 
of  others  which  no  telescope  can  show.  We 
cannot  by  looking  long  at  the  heavens  see 
more  than  at  first ;  in  fact,  the  first  glance  is 
the  keenest.  In  photography,  on  the  contrary, 


x  THE   STARRY  HEAVENS  411 

no  light  which  falls  on  the  plate,  however 
faint,  is  lost ;  it  is  taken  in  and  stored  up. 
In  an  hour  the  effect  is  3600  times  as  great 
as  in  a  second.  By  exposing  the  photographic 
plate,  therefore,  for  some  hours,  and  even  on 
successive  nights,  the  effect  of  the  light  is  as 
it  were  accumulated,  and  stars  are  rendered 
visible,  the  light  of  which  is  too  feeble  to  be 
shown  by  any  telescope. 

The  distances  and  magnitudes  of  the 
Stars  are  as  astonishing  as  their  numbers, 
Sirius,  for  instance,  being  about  twenty  times 
as  heavy  as  the  Sun  itself,  50  times  as 
bright,  and  no  less  than  1,000,000  times  as 
far  away ;  while,  though  like  other  stars  it 
seems  to  us  stationary,  it  is  in  reality  sweep- 
ing through  the  heavens  at  the  rate  of  1000 
miles  a  minute ;  Maia,  Electra,  and  Alcyone, 
three  of  the  Pleiades,  are  considered  to  be 
respectively  400,  480,  and  1000  times  as  bril- 
liant as  the  Sun,  Canopus  2500  times,  and 
Arcturus,  incredible  as  it  may  seem,  even 
8000  times,  so  that,  in  fact,  the  Sun  is  by 
no  means  one  of  the  largest  Stars.  Even 
the  minute  Stars  not  separately  visible  to  the 


412  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

naked  eye,  and  the  millions  which  make  up 
the  Milky  Way,  are  considered  to  be  on  an 
average  fully  equal  to  the  Sun  in  lustre. 

Arcturus  is,  so  far  as  we  know  at  present, 
the  swiftest,  brightest,  and  largest  of  all.  Its 
speed  is  over  300  miles  a  second,  it  is  said  to 
be  8000  times  as  bright .  as  the  Sun,  and  80 
times  as  large,  while  its  distance  is  so  great 
that  its  light  takes  200  years  in  reaching  us. 

The  distances  of  the  heavenly  bodies  are 
ascertained  by  wrhat  is  known  as  "  parallax." 
Suppose  the  ellipse  (Fig.  54),  marked  Jan., 
Apr.,  July,  Oct.,  represents  the  course  of  the 
Earth  round  the  Sun,  and  that  A  B  are  two 
stars.  If  in  January  we  look  at  the  star  A, 
we  see  it  projected  against  the  front  of  the 
sky  marked  1.  Three  months  later  it  would 
appear  to  be  at  2,  and  thus  as  we  move  round 
our  orbit  the  star  itself  appears  to  move  in 
the  ellipse  1,  2,  3,  4.  The  more  distant  star 
B  also  appears  to  move  in  a  similar,  but 
smaller,  ellipse ;  the  difference  arising  from 
the  greater  distance.  The  size  of  the  ellipse 
is  inversely  proportional  to  the  distance,  and 
hence  as  we  know  the  magnitude  of  the 


x  THE   STARRY  HEAVENS  413 

earth's  orbit  we  can  calculate  the  distance  of 
the  star.  The  difficulty  is  that  the  apparent 
ellipses  are  so  minute  that  it  is  in  very  few 
cases  possible  to  measure  them. 


Jan. 


July 

Fig.  54.  — The  Parallactic  Ellipse. 

The  distances  of  the  Fixed  Stars  thus  tested 
are  found  to  be  enormous,  and  indeed  gener- 
ally incalculable  ;  so  great  that  in  most  cases, 
whether  we  look  at  them  from  one  end 
of  our  orbit  or  the  other  —  though  the  dif- 
ference of  our  position,  corresponding  to  the 
points  marked  January  and  July  in  Fig.  54, 
is  185,000,000  miles  —  no  apparent  change  of 
position  can  be  observed.  In  some,  however, 
the  parallax,  though  very  minute,  is  yet  ap- 


414  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

proximately  measurable.  The  first  star  to 
which  this  test  was  applied  with  success  was 
that  known  as  61  Cygni,  which  is  thus  shown 
to  be  no  less  than  40  billions  of  miles  away 
from  us  —  many  thousand  times  as  far  as  we 
are  from  the  Sun.  The  nearest  of  the  Stars, 
so  far  as  we  yet  know,  is  a  Centauri,  the  dis- 
tance of  which  is  about  25  billions  of  miles. 

The  Pleiades  are  considered  to  be  at  a  dis- 
tance of  nearly  1500  billions  of  miles. 

As  regards  the  chemical  composition  of  the 
Stars,  it  is,  moreover,  obvious  that  the  power- 
ful engine  of  investigation  afforded  us  by  the 
spectroscope  is  by  no  means  confined  to  the 
substances  which  form  part  of  our  system. 
The  incandescent  body  can  thus  be  examined, 
no  matter  how  great  its  distance,  so  long  only 
as  the  light  is  strong  enough.  That  this 
method  was  theoretically  applicable  to  the 
light  of  the  Stars  is  indeed  obvious,  but  the 
practical  difficulties  are  very  great.  Sirius, 
the  brightest  of  all,  is,  in  round  numbers,  a 
hundred  millions  of  millions  of  miles  from  us ; 
and,  though  as  bright  as  fifty  of  our  suns,  his 
light  when  it  reaches  us,  after  a  journey  of 


x  THE   STARRY   HEAVENS  ,  415 

sixteen  years,  is  at  most  one  two-thousand- 
millionth  part  as  bright.  Nevertheless,  as 
long  ago  as  1815  Fraunhofer  recognised  the 
fixed  lines  in  the  light  of  four  of  the  Stars  ; 
in  1863  Miller  and  Huggins  in  our  own 
country,  and  Rutherford  in  America,  suc- 
ceeded in  determining  the  dark  lines  in  the 
spectrum  of  some  of  the  brighter  Stars,  thus 
showing  that  these  beautiful  and  mysterious 
lights  contain  many  of  the  material  substances 
with  which  we  are  familiar.  In  Aldebaran, 
for  instance,  we  may  infer  the  presence  of 
hydrogen,  sodium,  magnesium,  iron,  calcium, 
tellurium,  antimony,  bismuth,  and  mercury. 
As  might  have  been  expected,  the  composition 
of  the  Stars  is  not  uniform,  and  it  would 
appear  that  they  may  be  arranged  in  a  few 
well-marked  classes,  indicating  differences  of 
temperature,  or  perhaps  of  age. 

Thus  we  can  make  the  Stars  teach  us  their 
own  composition  with  light,  which  started 
from  its  source  years  ago,  in  many  cases  long 
before  we  were  born. 

Spectrum  analysis  has  also  thrown  an  un- 
expected light  on  the  movements  of  the  Stars. 


416  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATUEE  CHAP. 

Ordinary  observation,  of  course,  is  powerless 
to  inform  us  whether  they  are  moving  towards 
or  away  from  us.  Spectrum  analysis,  how- 
ever, enables  us  to  solve  the  problem,  and 
we  know  that  some  are  approaching,  some 
receding. 


Blue  Red 


Fig.  55.  —  Displacement  of  the  hydrogen  line  in  the  spectrum  of  Rigel. 

If  a  star,  say  for  instance  Sirius,  were 
motionless,  or  rather  if  it  retained  a  constant 
distance  from  the  earth,  Fraunhofer's  lines 
would  occupy  exactly  the  same  position  in 
the  spectrum  as  they  do  in  that  of  the  Sun. 
On  the  contrary,  if  Sirius  were  approaching, 
the  lines  would  be  slightly  shifted  towards  the 
blue,  or  if  it  were  receding  towards  the  red. 
Fig.  55  shows  the  displacement  of  the  hydro- 
gen line  in  the  spectrum  of  Rigel,  due  to  the 
fact  that  it  is  receding  from  us  at  the  rate  of 
39  miles  a  second.  The  Sun  affords  us  an 
excellent  test  of  this  theory.  As  it  revolves 
on  its  axis  one  edge  is  always  approaching 
and  the  other  receding  from  us  at  a  known 


x  THE    STARRY   HEAVENS  417 

rate,  and  observation  shows  that  the  lines 
given  by  the  light  of  the  two  edges  differ 
accordingly.  So  again  as  regards  the  Stars, 
we  obtain  a  similar  test  derived  from  the 
Earth's  movement.  As  we  revolve  in  our 
orbit  we  approach  or  recede  any  given  star, 
and  our  rate  of  motion  being  known  we 
thus  obtain  a  second  test.  The  results  thus 
examined  have  stood  their  ground  satisfac- 
torily, and  in  Huggins'  opinion  may  be  relied 
on  within  about  an  English  mile  a  second. 
The  effect  of  this  movement  is,  moreover, 
independent  of  the  distance.  A  lateral  mo- 
tion, say  of  20  miles  a  second,  which  in  a 
nearer  object  would  appear  to  be  a  stupendous 
velocity,  becomes  in  the  Stars  quite  imper- 
ceptible. A  motion  of  the  same  rapidity,  on 
the  other  hand,  towards  or  away  from  us,  dis- 
places the  dark  lines  equally,  whatever  the 
distance  of  the  object  may  be.  We  may  then 
affirm  that  Sirius,  for  instance,  is  receding 
from  us  at  the  rate  of  about  20  miles  a  second. 
Betelgeux,  Rigel,  Castor,  Regulus,  and  others 
are  also  moving  away ;  while  some  —  Vega, 
Arcturus,  and  Pollux,  for  example  —  are 

2E 


418  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

approaching  us.  By  the  same  process  it  is 
shown  that  some  groups  of  stars  are  only 
apparently  in  relation  to  one  another.  Thus 
in  Charles'  Wain  some  of  the  stars  are 
approaching,  others  receding. 

I  have  already  mentioned  that  Sirius, 
though  it  seems,  like  other  stars,  so  stationary 
that  we  speak  of  them  as  "fixed,"  is  really 
sweeping  along  at  the  rate  of  1000  miles  a 
minute.  Even  this  enormous  velocity  is  ex- 
ceeded in  other  cases.  One,  which  is  numbered 
as  1830  in  Groombridge's  Catalogue  of  the 
Stars.,  and  is  therefore  known  as  "  Groom- 
bridge's  1830,"  moves  no  less  than  12,000 
miles  a  minute,  and  Arcturus  22,000  miles  a 
minute,  or  32,000,000  of  miles  a  day ;  and 
yet  the  distances  of  the  Stars  are  so  great  that 
1000  years  would  make  hardly  any  difference 
in  the  appearance  of  the  heavens. 

Changes,  however,  there  certainly  would 
be.  Even  in  the  short  time  during  which 
we  have  any  observations,  some  are  already 
on  record.  One  of  the  most  interesting  is  the 
fading  of  the  7th  Pleiad,  due,  according  to 
Ovid,  to  grief  at  the  taking  of  Troy.  Again, 


x  THE   STARRY   HEAVENS  419 

the  "  fiery  Dogstar,"  as  it  used  to  be,  is 
now,  and  has  been  for  centuries,  a  clear 
white. 

The  star  known  as  Nova  Cygni  —  the  "new 
star  in  the  Constellation  of  the  Swan"  —  was 
first  observed  on  the  24th  November  1876  by 
Dr.  Schmidt  of  Athens,  who  had  examined 
that  part  of  the  heavens  only  four  days  before, 
and  is  sure  that  no  such  star  was  visible  then. 
At  its  brightest  it  was  a  brilliant  star  of  the 
third  magnitude,  but  this  only  lasted  for  a 
few  days ;  in  a  week  it  had  ceased  to  be  a 
conspicuous  object,  and  in  a  fortnight  became 
invisible  without  a  telescope.  Its  sudden 
splendour  was  probably  due  to  a  collision  be- 
tween two  bodies,  and  was  probably  little,  if 
at  all,  less  than  that  of  the  Sun  itself.  It  is 
still  a  mystery  how  so  great  a  conflagration 
can  have  diminished  so  rapidly. 

But  though  we  speak  of  some  stars  as 
specially  variable,  they  are  no  doubt  all  un- 
dergoing slow  change.  There  was  a  time 
when  they  were  not,  and  one  will  come  when 
they  will  cease  to  shine.  Each,  indeed,  has  a 
life-history  of  its  own.  Some,  doubtless,  rep- 


420  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

resent  now  what  others  once  were,  and  what 
many  will  some  day  become. 

For,  in  addition  to  the  luminous  heavenly 
bodies,  we  cannot  doubt  that  there  are  count- 
less others  invisible  to  us,  some  from  their 
greater  distance  or  smaller  size,  but  others, 
doubtless,  from  their  feebler  light ;  indeed,  we 
know  that  there  are  many  dark  bodies  which 
now  emit  no  light,  or  comparatively  little. 
Thus  in  the  case  of  Procyon  the  existence  of 
an  invisible  body  is  proved  by  the  movement 
of  the  visible  star.  Again,  I  may  refer  to  the 
curious  phenomena  presented  by  Algol,  a 
bright  star  in  the  head  of  Medusa.  The  star 
shines  without  change  for  two  days  and  thir- 
teen hours  ;  then  in  three  hours  and  a  half 
dwindles  from  a  star  of  the  second  to  one  of 
the  fourth  magnitude ;  and  then,  in  another 
three  and  a  half  hours,  reassumes  its  original 
brilliancy.  These  changes  led  astronomers  to 
infer  the  presence  of  an  opaque  body,  which 
intercepts  at  regular  intervals  a  part  of  the 
light  emitted  by  Algol ;  and  Vogel  has  now 
shown  by  the  aid  of  the  spectroscope  that 
Algol  does  in  fact  revolve  round  a  dark,  and 


x  THE    STARRY   HEAVENS  421 

therefore  invisible,  companion.  The  spectro- 
scope, in  fact,  makes  known  to  us  the 
presence  of  many  stars  which  no  telescope 
could  reveal. 

Thus  the  floor  of  heaven  is  not  only 
"  thick  inlaid  with  patines  of  bright  gold," 
but  studded  also  with  extinct  stars,  once  prob- 
ably as  brilliant  as  our  own  Sun,  but  now 
dead  and  cold,  as  Helmholtz  tells  us  that  our 
Sun  itself  will  be  some  seventeen  millions  of 
years  hence. 

Such  dark  bodies  cannot  of  course  be  seen, 
and  their  existence,  though  we  cannot  doubt 
it,  is  a  matter  of  calculation.  In  one  case, 
however,  the  conclusion  has  received  a  most 
interesting  confirmation.  The  movements  of 
Sirius  led  mathematicians  to  conclude  that  it 
had  also  a  mighty  and  massive  neighbour,  the 
relative  position  of  which  they  calculated, 
though  no  such  body  had  ever  been  seen.  In 
February  1862.  however,  the  Messrs.  Alvan 
Clark  of  Cambridgeport  were  completing 
their  18-inch  glass  for  the  Chicago  Observa- 
tory. "  '  Why,  father,'  "  exclaimed  the  younger 
Clark,  " '  the  star  has  a  companion.'  The 


422  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

father  looked,  and  there  was  a  faint  star 
due  east  from  the  bright  one,  and  distant 
about  ten  seconds.  This  was  exactly  the  pre- 
dicted direction  for  that  time,  though  the  dis- 
coverers knew  nothing  of  it.  As  the  news 
went  round  the  world  many  observers  turned 
their  attention  to  Sirius ;  and  it  was  then 
found  that,  though  it  had  never  before  been 
noticed,  the  companion  was  really  shown  under 
favourable  circumstances  by  any  powerful 
telescope.  It  is,  in  fact,  one-half  of  the  size  of 
Sirius,  though  only  yoljToth  °^  the  bright- 


ness." 


Stars  are,  we  know,  of  different  magni- 
tudes and  different  degrees  of  glory.  They 
are  also  of  different  colours.  Most,  indeed,  are 
white,  but  some  reddish,  some  ruddy,  some 
intensely  red  ;  others,  but  fewer,  green,  blue, 
or  violet.  It  is  possible  that  the  compara- 
tive rarity  of  these  colours  is  due  to  the  fact 
that  our  atmosphere  especially  absorbs  green 
and  blue,  and  it  is  remarkable  that  almost  all 
of  the  green,  blue,  or  violet  stars  are  one  of 
the  pairs  of  a  Double  Star,  and  in  every  case 

1  Clarke,  System  of  the  Stars. 


x  THE   STARKY   HEAVENS  423 

the  smaller  one  of  the  two,  the  larger  being 
red,  orange,  or  yellow.  One  of  the  most 
exquisite  of  these  is  /3  Cygni,  a  Double  Star, 
the  larger  one  being  golden  yellow,  the  smaller 
light  blue.  With  a  telescope  the  effect  is  very 
beautiful,  but  it  must  be  magnificent  if  one 
could  only  see  it  from  a  lesser  distance. 

Double  Stars  -occur  in  considerable  numbers. 
In  some  cases  indeed  the  relation  may  only  be 
apparent,  one  being  really  far  in  front  of  the 
other.  In  very  many  cases,  however,  the 
association  is  real,  and  they  revolve  round 
one  another.  In  some  cases  the  period  may 
extend  to  thousands  of  years  ;  for  the  distance 
which  separates  them  is  enormous,  and,  even 
when  with  a  powerful  telescope  it  is  indi- 
cated only  by  a  narrow  dark  line,  amounts 
to  hundreds  of  millions  of  miles.  The  Pole 
Star  itself  is  double.  Andromeda  is  triple, 
with  perhaps  a  fourth  dark  and  therefore 
invisible  companion.  These  dark  bodies  have 
a  special  interest,  since  it  is  impossible  not 
to  ask  ourselves  whether  some  at  any  rate 
of  them  may  not  be  inhabited.  In  e  Lyrse 
there  are  two,  each  again  being  itself  double. 


424  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

f  Cancri,  and  probably  also  9  Orionis,  consist 
of  six  stars,  and  from  such  a  group  we  pass 
on  to  Star  Clusters  in  which  the  number  is 
very  considerable.  The  cluster  in  Hercules 
consists  of  from  1000  to  4000.  A  stellar 
swarm  in  the  Southern  Cross  contains  several 
hundred  stars  of  various  colours,  red,  green, 
greenish  blue,  and  blue  closely  thronged  to- 
gether, so  that  they  have  been  compared  to  a 
"  superb  piece  of  fancy  jewellery."  l 

The  cluster  in  the  Sword  Handle  of  Per- 
seus contains  innumerable  stars,  many  doubt- 
less as  brilliant  as  our  Sun.  We  ourselves 
probably  form  a  part  of  such  a  cluster.  The 
Milky  Way  itself,  as  we  knowr,  entirely  sur- 
rounds us ;  it  is  evident,  therefore,  that  the 
Sun,  and  of  course  we  ourselves,  actually  lie 
in  it.  It  is,  therefore,  a  Star  Cluster,  one  of 
countless  numbers,  and  containing  our  Sun 
as  a  single  unit. 

It  has  as  yet  been  found  impossible  to 
determine  even  approximately  the  distance 
of  these  Star  Clusters. 

1  Kosmos. 


x  THE   STARRY   HEAVENS  425 

NEBULAE 

From  Stars  we  pass  insensibly  to  Nebulae, 
which,  are  so  far  away  that  their  distance 
is  at  present  quite  immeasurable.  All  that 
we  can  do  is  to  fix  a  minimum,  and  this 
is  so  great  that  it  is  useless  to  express  it 
in  miles.  Astronomers,  therefore,  take  the 
velocity  of  light  as  a  unit.  It  travels  at  the 
rate  of  180,000  miles  a  second,  and  even  at 
this  enormous  velocity  it  must  have  taken 
hundreds  of  years  to  reach  us,  so  that  we  see 
them  not  as  they  now  are  but  as  they  were 
hundreds  of  years  ago. 

It  is  no  wonder,  therefore,  that  in  many  of 
these  clusters  it  is  impossible  to  distinguish 
the  separate  stars  of  which  they  are  composed. 
As,  howevjer,  our  telescopes  are  improved, 
more  and  more  clusters  are  being  resolved. 
Photography  also  comes  to  our  aid,  and,  as 
already  mentioned,  by  long  exposure  stars  can 
be  made  visible  which  are  quite  imperceptible 
to  the  eye,  even  with  aid  of  the  most  powerful 
telescope. 

Spectrum  analysis  also  seems  to  show  that 


426  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE  CHAP. 

such  a  nebula  as  that  in  Andromeda,  which 
with  our  most  powerful  instruments  appears 
only  as  a  mere  cloud,  is  really  a  vast  cluster 
of  stellar  points. 

This,  however,  by  no  means  applies  to  all 
the  nebulas.  The  spectrum  of  a  star  is  a 
bright  band  of  colour  crossed  by  dark  lines ; 
that  of  a  gaseous  nebula  consists  of  bright 
lines.  This  test  has  been  made  use  of,  and 
indicates  that  some  of  the  nebulae  are  really 
immense  masses  of  incandescent  and  very 
attenuated  gas ;  very  possibly,  however,  in  a 
condition  of  which  we  have  no  experience,  and 
arranged  in  discs,  bands,  rings,  chains,  wisps, 
knots,  rays,  curves,  ovals,  spirals,  loops, 
wreaths,  fans,  brushes,  sprays,  lace,  waves, 
and  clouds.  Huggins  has  shown  that  many 
of  them  are  really  stupendous  masses  of 
glowing  gas,  especially  of  hydrogen,  and 
perhaps  of  nitrogen,  while  the  spectrum  also 
shows  other  lines  which  perhaps  may  indicate 
some  of  the  elements  which,  so  far  as  our 
Earth  is  concerned,  appear  to  be  missing 
between  hydrogen  and  lithium.  Many  of 
the  nebulae  are  exquisitely  beautiful,  and 
their  colour  very  varied. 


x  THE   STARRY   HEAVENS  427 

In  some  cases,  moreover,  nebulae  seem  to 
be  gradually  condensing  into  groups  of  stars, 
and  in  many  cases  it  is  difficult  to  say  whether 
we  should  consider  a  given  group  as  a  cluster 
of  stars  surrounded  by  nebulous  matter  or  a 
gaseous  nebula  condensed  here  and  there  into 
stars. 

"  Besides  the  single  Sun,"  says  Proctor, 
"  the  universe  contains  groups  and  systems 
and  streams  of  primary  suns ;  there  are 
galaxies  of  minor  orbs;  there  are  clustering 
stellar  aggregations  showing  every  variety  of 
richness,  of  figure,  and  of  distribution ;  there 
are  all  the  various  forms  of  star  cloudlets, 
resolvable  and  irresolvable,  circular,  elliptical, 
and  spiral ;  and  lastly,  there  are  irregular 
masses  of  luminous  gas  clinging  in  fantastic 
convolutions  around  stars  and  star  systems. 
Nor  is  it  unsafe  to  assert  that  other  forms 
and  varieties  of  structure  will  yet  be  dis- 
covered, or  that  hundreds  more  exist  which 
we  may  never  hope  to  recognise." 

Nor  is  it  only  as  regards  the  magnitude 
and  distances  of  the  heavenly  bodies  that  we 
are  lost  in  amazement  and  admiration.  The 


428  THE   BEAUTIES   OF   NATURE  CHAP. 

lapse  of  time  is  a  grander  element  in  Astron- 
omy even  than  in  Geology,  and  dates  back 
long  before  Geology  begins.  We  must  figure 
to  ourselves  a  time  when  the  solid  matter 
which  now  composes  our  Earth  was  part  of 
a  continuous  and  intensely  heated  gaseous 
body,  which  extended  from  the  centre  of  the 
Sun  to  beyond  the  orbit  of  Neptune,  and 
had,  therefore,  a  diameter  of  more  than 
6,000,000,000  miles. 

As  this  slowly  contracted,  Neptune  was 
detached,  first  perhaps  as  a  ring,  and  then  as  a 
spherical  body.  Ages  after  this  Uranus  broke 
away. 

Then  after  another  incalculable  period 
Saturn  followed  suit,  and  here  the  tendencies 
to  coherence  and  disruption  were  so  evenly 
balanced  that  to  this  day  a  portion  circulates 
as  rings  round  the  main  body  instead  of  being 
broken  up  into  satellites.  Again  after  succes- 
sive intervals  Jupiter,  Mars,  the  Asteroids, 
the  Earth,  Venus,  and  Mercury  all  passed 
through  the  same  marvellous  phases.  The 
time  which  these  changes  would  have  re- 
quired must  have  been  incalculable,  and  they 


x  THE   STARRY   HEAVENS  429 

all  of  course  preceded,  and  preceded  again 
by  another  incalculable  period,  the  very  com- 
mencement of  that  geological  history  which 
itself  indicates  a  lapse  of  time  greater  than 
human  imagination  can  realise. 

Thus,  then,  however  far  we  penetrate  in 
time  or  in  space,  we  find  ourselves  surrounded 
by  mystery.  Just  as  in  time  we  can  form  no 
idea  of  a  commencement,  no  anticipation  of 
an  end,  so  space  also  extends  around  us, 
boundless  in  all  directions.  Our  little  Earth 
revolves  round  the  mighty  Sun ;  the  Sun 
itself  and  the  whole  solar  system  are  moving 
with  inconceivable  velocity  towards  a  point 
in  the  constellation  of  Hercules ;  together 
with  all  the  nearer  stars  it  forms  a  cluster 
in  the  heavens,  which  appears  to  our  eyes  as 
the  Milky  Way  ;  while  outside  our  star  cluster 
again  are  innumerable  others,  which  far  trans- 
cend, alike  in  magnitude,  in  grandeur,  and 
in  distance,  the  feeble  powers  of  our  finite 
imagination. 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR. 


The  Pleasures  of  Life. 

i6mo.     Cloth.     $1.25. 
EIGH  TY-FO  UR  TH    THO  US  AND. 

ALSO  SEPARATELY:     Part  I.,  paper,  25  cents;   cloth,  50  cents 
Part  II.,  paper,  35  cents;    cloth,  60  cents. 


CONTENTS. 

PART   I. 

CHAPTER  I. 
THE  DUTY  OF  HAPPINESS. 

CHAPTER   II. 

THE  HAPPINESS  OF  DUTY. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  VALUE  OF  TIME. 


CHAPTER   III. 

A  SONG  OF  BOOKS. 

CHAPTER   IV. 

THE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 

CHAPTER  V. 

THE  BLESSING  OF  FRIENDS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  PLEASURES  OF  TRAVEL 

CHAPTER   VIII. 

THE  PLEASURES  OF  HOME. 

CHAPTER   IX. 

SCIENCE. 

CHAPTER   X. 

EDUCATION. 


PART    II. 


CHAPTER   I. 

AMBITION. 

CHAPTER   II. 

WEALTH. 

CHAPTER   III. 

HEALTH. 

CHAPTER   IV. 

LOVE. 

CHAPTER  V. 

ART. 

CHAPTER   VI. 

POETRY. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Music. 


CHAPTER 
THE  DESTINY 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  BEAUTIES  OF  NATURE. 

CHAPTER   IX. 

THE  TROUBLES  OF  LIFE. 

CHAPTER   X. 

LABOUR  AND  REST. 

CHAPTER   XI. 

RELIGION. 

CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  HOPE  OF  PROGRESS. 

XIII. 

OF  MAN. 


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ma 


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